


A Tale of the Shapeshifters

by Shiloh_Grace



Category: Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types, Celtic Mythology, Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Irish Mythology, La Belle et la Bête | Beauty and the Beast (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, And the Beast is a half-dragon half-man, Anglo-Irish Relations, Background Relationships, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Bisexual Male Character, But the Beauty is a shapeshifter who is half-human half-cat, Canon Asexual Character, Canon LGBTQ Female Character, Canon LGBTQ Male Character, Cat, Cat/Human Hybrids, Cats, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Character Death, Confessions, Dragon & Human Interactions, Dragons, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fantasy, First Kiss, Firsts, Folklore, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Historical, Historical Fantasy, Ireland, Irish Language, Irish history, Kissing, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Love, Love Potion/Spell, Magic, Marriage, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Pansexual Character, Pining, Potions, Romance, Shapeshifters - Freeform, Shapeshifting, Supernatural Elements, This is basically a beauty and the beast fairy tale retelling, Transformation, although the primary ship and the only relationship outwardly shown is f/m, dragon - Freeform, f/m - Freeform, relationship, relationships, there are some lgbtq+ characters in here who mention their sexuality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 28,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28137942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiloh_Grace/pseuds/Shiloh_Grace
Summary: A Beauty and the Beast retelling, with original fairytale/myth elements and tropes. ~❦︎~ Athena Everleigh is a curious lass living in a village on the outskirts of Dublin, Ireland in 1905. Nearing her sixteenth birthday, she faces a choice: to either live the life her mother prepared for her, full of magic, forests, ancient tales, and shapeshifting—or to become the rising Dublin socialite her father wants her to be. It is not until she begins working in a castle for a mysterious man that the answer becomes clear. But, he has a past all his own. And it is up to Athena to unravel it.
Relationships: Beast/Beauty (Beauty and the Beast)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Part I - The Everleighs

Athena Everleigh never once accorded with the social graces of her family in Dublin, nor did she want to. Although her prominent father, Mr. Everleigh, encouraged her as a child to move in with her aunts and uncles and cousins, she delightfully argued to remain with her mother—in a small rural town on the coast of Ireland.  
The town itself was not so far removed from Dublin, but the residing commoners were. Mr. Everleigh had agreed to live there when arrested by the natural charms of his wife, Mrs. Everleigh—who declared never to move from her hometown. Although not as radiant as some other Englishwomen he had courted while in London, there was some mysterious and earth-like grace about Mrs. Everleigh that reeled him closer to her. 

Mr. Everleigh begged his London family to move to the small coastal town, as it apparently provided “fresh air” and “delightful countryside to gaze upon”. However, upon arrival, his sister, brother-in-law, nieces, and nephews, all decided to remain in the bustling city, what with its blossoming social sphere. Mr. Everleigh concurred, as he longed for Dublin, too. 

It was the talk of the small town when prized Isolde Ó'Broin became Isolde Byrne, then Mrs. Charles Everleigh. It was a pity for such a distinctly Irish lass to bear the name of an Englishwoman. A year later, more whispers arose when Mr. and Mrs. Everleigh revealed the name of their firstborn: Athena. As fond as Mr. Everleigh was of Greek and Roman mythology, his family in Dublin expected—though not altogether liked—the name Athena. But no one in the coastal town knew of his adoration of the Greek Goddess of wisdom and finesse during war; and Mrs. Everleigh seemed to like whatever Mr. Everleigh liked. 

And it was partially due to this name—this odd, foreign-sounding name—that Athena did not belong in that coastal town of her mother’s family either. She was curious and observant because her mother took her for long walks outside—during which, she taught Athena about various types of flowers and their healing powers, as well as what each color of the sky meant. She was also keen and intelligent because her father taught her to read—unlike most children of the town.

The Everleighs continued to have more and more children—an even dispersal of boys and girls. Mr. Everleigh had wanted to give them more Greek and Roman names, but after observing how Athena had been bullied so by the other children of the town, decided against it. Instead, he gave them local names. 

There was nothing for Mr. Everleigh to do in town besides finding a trade. Of course, there were social gatherings, but not ones he wished to partake in, as they were entirely separate from the ones in London. And as the years dragged on, his wife grew colder and colder towards him—not that her beauty or charm had diminished but rather her fondness for him had, if there ever had been any fondness at all. Mr. Everleigh detested life and living alongside his wife. 

The only thing that gave him any rest of mind was knowing that his daughter, Miss Athena Everleigh, was growing to be a fine young lass. Never the most beautiful nor most popular girl of the town, but the brightest and certainly the most interesting. Boys danced with her not because they fancied her or wanted her for a wife, but because she would talk about the most intriguing and delightfully confusing things. Although she had been teased relentlessly as a young child, at one point in the prime of her girlhood, all townspeople ceased muttering about her oddness. They instead spoke of how one day a lad would fall madly in love with her and her not in love at all. Then debates would ensue as to whether she would turn him away or toy with him for years on end—almost as her mother had so many years ago with Mr. Everleigh.

But there was one key detail about Athena and her mother which no one in the small coastal town—not even Mr. Everleigh—knew about. There were skeptics, of course, but that was only because the Irish were once greatly superstitious people. And at the turn of the 20th century, the number of believers, skeptics, and traditional people began to be outnumbered by the people who had been given a new name.

~❦︎~❦︎~

_**Author's Note** _

_Please keep in mind that I am not a native Irish Gaelic speaker, nor do I live in Ireland. I have researched the Irish Gaelic language as well as the Dublin accent, but I am not fluent by any means. Moreover, this story is not meant to be 100% historically accurate but I do wish to respectfully and tastefully portray this culture and era. I do not mean in any way to disrespect the native culture of Ireland. Therefore, if you notice any major linguistic, cultural, or historical errors, please comment or send me a private message and I will fix them. Thank you._


	2. Chapter I - Milly, the Cat

“Oh, where is dat godforsaken cat when you need her?” the tavern keeper, Mrs. O’Dair shouted out, only to herself. “Milly! Milly!” She pushed a broom around the cellar of the tavern, whacking fat rats out of her way and straining her neck while looking for the conveniently missing cat. The old lady’s muscles began to ache and so she seated herself on the stairs leading down into the cellar, a bit weary from the strenuous activity. She could not see anything, save for beady red eyes every now and then. They would pop up, like fish popping up out of the sea on a cold, clear winter morning. It even smelled like the sea, like the boats in the harbor and the fishmongers selling their ware. Warring with those scents, the whole cellar reeked of rotten whiskey that had gone bad long ago, as well as table scraps left out for Milly. The cat would drag them back there, then leave them and the rats would come after them instead. But, then, Milly usually took care of the rats, too, so there’s that. 

Mrs. O’Dair heard the faint sound of Milly’s fleshy paw pads hitting the tavern floor. She turned and, to her delight, the sleek gray cat was there. “Now den, dey’re all yours, lass!” The tavern keeper picked herself up and let Milly slip past her skirts, making sure she left the door ajar so the cat could leave whenever she was finished rat hunting.

Several minutes later, after some nasty growls and triumphant meows, an eyeball peeped out from behind the door. It was silvery blue, like morning fog not letting go of the sky. Three fingers then latched onto the wooden doorframe. The hinges creaked, and the fingers and the eye escaped back to the darkness. 

Outside the cellar, the scent of steaming food and whiskey traveled through the air, replacing the foul smells of the inside. Mrs. O’Dair hummed to herself from the kitchen and pushed the broom. The people of the tavern chortled and used elaborate hand gestures to tell of their mucky, bloody fishing tales from the morning. Their fingers had mud and sea residue all over them, along with deep cuts and scars that glimmered in the light from the window. But the three fingers that reached through the door were clean as the rivulets passing through the forest. 

A white figure streaked through the back of the tavern—lightning streaking through the sky, leaving only light footprints. A dress lay at the end of the hallway, where no one stood. She breathed heavily, rustling to get the dress on as quickly as she could. Sweat poured off her neck and back. The beige-tinted dress fit loosely, without a corset. Underneath the dress was a black and red cloak. The figure slowed her breathing, covering her mouth with one hand to force herself to breathe through her nostrils. She whipped the cloak around herself then tucked her golden-brown hair beneath the fabric. 

Moving one step forward, the girl looked into the kitchen from behind the hall. She then peered into the tavern, where a slip of paper hung on its wall. In bold letters, it read:

**_WANTED - APPRENTICE AND HOUSEKEEPER_ **

**_PAID IN GOLD_ **

The girl slipped the hood of the cloak over her head, then snuck past Mrs. O’Dair and crept into the main hall of the tavern. She stayed close to the walls, keeping her head down low and walking at a brisk pace. Finally, she stretched her fingers to the tip-top of the slip of paper and began peeling it from the wall, when a man’s voice stopped her:

“I wouldn’t dare if I were you, m'lass.” 

The whole tavern quieted.

She stood but a moment, her cloak facing the rest of the townspeople—then yanked the paper off the wall and bolted out the doors. 

“Oy! Where is she goin’!” several men shouted out. A few ran after her: the ones closest to the door. They asked the people in the street, “A moment ago, did you happen to see a young lass run out of here with a cloak about her shoulders?” 

“Ay!” a man replied. “Just now, I saw a young lass scuttle behind da tavern.”

Men and women alike gathered around the outside of the tavern to search for the mysterious creature, but when they finished scouting, the only things to be found were her clothes. 

“Do you believe she might have been—” an older woman trailed off.

“No one could’ve taken her garments off dat quickly unless dey were already loose,” several men agreed. “Besides, da letter’s gone, too.”

But no one saw enough of her to argue anything factual. After all, mysterious happenings in the town were a daily part of life—and had always been.


	3. Chapter II - A Father's Favorite

“Ma! Ma!” 

Athena trotted through the tall grass, chasing after her mother. 

Once her daughter reached her, Mrs. Everleigh turned around, put a finger to the girl’s lips, and gave her a stern look.

“ _Ma!_ ” Athena attempted to say, prying her mother’s finger away from her mouth.

Mrs. Everleigh turned around again, facing the forest.

Athena let out a “Humph!” then stated, like a baby reading for the first time: “* _Maidin mhaith a M'áthair_.”

Mrs. Everleigh pirouetted and caught her daughter’s eyes, then said so sweetly it ought to have been a song: “Dere, dat’s all dat had to be spoken, me lass.” 

Athena smiled, her cheeks turning to rosy red apples. 

“Now, what’s da story dis time?” Athena placed herself upon a nearby tree stump, then unruffled the wrinkles in her skirts. 

“Oh, Ma! Look what I found!” the girl handed her mother the slip of paper.

Mrs. Everleigh’s eyes traced over it for a few moments. “And what exactly do ya plan ta do wit dis?” she queried.

“I plan to work, Ma! T’ink of it—all da gold in da world could be ours!” Athena squealed, kicking her feet through the grass in delight.

“Child, dere’s so much I still must teach you…”

“Ay, I know, Ma! But I t’ink I’m old enough now and know enough about how to talk da people! I can do some simple housework. Why, I’ve been doin’ it me whole life!” she giggled. “And den an apprenticeship! I’ll be studyin’ under Sir Claudius!”

“Sir Claudius?” Mrs. Everleigh gasped.

“Ay, read da fine print.” The girl trailed her finger down the page until reaching the very bottom. In tiny script—much tinier than the bold lettering up top—it was signed:

**_Sir Claudius, of Beochaoineadh Castle_ **

“No, me lass, I won’t allow it,” Mrs. Everleigh concluded, as firm as a businessman declining a deal.

“What!?” The girl almost began to sob, her voice quivering and her lip trembling.

“I won’t allow it. You haven’t enough years ta understand.” 

“ _I do so!_ ” Athena retorted, reaching for the letter. Her mother crumpled it up and put it in the hem of her dress. “Ma! I’m almost sixteen now! I should be allowed ta work for me livin’.”

“You already live a fine life, me lass. Your _áthair_ makes sure of it.” She cupped the girl’s face. “I am content wit da life I lead, and you will learn to be content wit’ your own…. But I understand dat you are only tryin’ to help your family. You’ve benevolent intentions. Dat’s all any _Mháthair_ could ask for.” Mrs. Everleigh wiped away the girl’s tears. “I must be off ta feed da little ones now.”

“Ay, I’m sorry, Ma.”

“You’re forgiven, me lass.” And so she went.

~❦︎~

The family sat around the fireside that night, as they did each evening after supper. Athena’s younger brothers and sisters sat nearer to their mother, while Athena perched at her father’s chair, letting him rub her head. He brushed his palm down her golden-brown waves for several minutes before she asked, “Father, won’t you read a story tonight?”

“Of course, my darling! But I’ve read all of them on the bookshelf already. Aren’t you bored with them?”

“No, Father, I could never bore of the stories.”

“Alright, darling.” He rose and traveled to the bookshelf near the fireside. Athena followed suit. She gazed over the bottom row and he the top, as he stood almost a head higher than her. 

Mrs. Everleigh said nothing, only watching out of the corner of her eye while perching on the settee across from the fireplace. 

“Now then, what about this one?” He lifted a blue book.

“No! We read dat one last week!”

“ _That_ one, my dear, _that one_ ,” he corrected.

“That one,” she muttered, tracing her finger over the spines.

“What about this one?” he asked, his lips tilting upward into a tired smile. He held a reddish-brown book with the pages falling out. “One of your favorites when you were little.”

“No, I’m older now so I needn’t bother with it.”

He chuckled. “If you say so, my darling.”

“You shouldn’t let da lass say such t’ings,” Mrs. Everleigh chimed in.

“Oh, but she’s almost sixteen now!” He picked her up and swung her around, as though she were still a wee child. “She’s almost sixteen and pretty as a rose! It is time she had new books anyway! No more childish fables. I knew that’s what you really wanted, Athena Darling.” He pinched her cheek.

“You always know what I want, Father,” she giggled. 

“Givin’ da lass what it is she wants t'will only spoil ‘er,” Mrs. Everleigh declared, louder this time and clenching her jaw tight. Her long brunette hair was in a braid as flat and clamped as her teeth.

Mr. Everleigh refused to listen. He only laughed alongside his favorite daughter—favorite child. They stayed up all night—him describing the plots and characters of some of the greatest literature ever written, and her picking out the ones she wanted. By the end of it, they had a list of novels he vowed to buy for her when he visited Dublin again. One by one, the other children went to bed, and eventually, Mrs. Everleigh did, too. It was then that Athena asked:

“Father?”

“Yes, my darling?”

“What would you think of it if…”

“If…?”  
“If I began to work?”  
“Work?” He laughed a deep belly laugh, throwing his head back. “Why would you work? It would only mar your pretty hands.”

She listened closely for her mother’s slow, sleeping breaths hailing from the master bedroom. Once she heard them, she whispered: “I thought it might help the family.” 

“Darling, there is no work around here worth enough money to ruin your girlhood forever. Once you start working in this town, you never stop.” He crossed his arms, lifted his head, and shut his eyes.

“But Father!” she urged, “he pays in _gold_.”

Mr. Everleigh remained still for several moments, then unraveled himself. “Gold, you say?”

“Yes, Father.”

His face lightened. The bags under his eyes almost seemed to disappear before he sunk back into the chair once more. “No, no, it is still not worth it, Athena Dear. You are too young and too precious to me. Marry a wealthy man instead, so you never work a day in your life.”

“But weren’t you once a wealthy man?”

He might have smiled. “Once.”

“What happened?”

“Let’s just say that wealth has a way of disappearing in this town.”

“Why's da'?”

“Athena, we must work on your pronunciation: _that_. And not ‘ _why's_ ’ but ‘ _why is_ ’.”

“That. Why.”

“Better. Oh, it just does. Especially when you’re married to _her._ ” She gazed into his dead brown eyes. “So, my final answer is ‘no’. I won’t allow it.”

She pouted, “That’s just what Mother said.”

“What Mother said?” He bit his finger, eyes chasing around the room. He, too, began to listen for her deep breaths. “You already spoke to her about it?”

“Yes, Father.”

“And she said ‘no’?”

“Yes, Father.”

Mr. Everleigh huffed. “Well, then, I’m not quite sure of what to do.” He looked at the poor girl, who began to cry. “Oh, darling, Father’s here.” Athena nuzzled into his chest and blew her nose in his handkerchief. “Now, what is it that you want to do? Hopefully, you do not want to be a flower girl or costermonger. Although, those would likely be the cleanest jobs….” He sat in deep thought while stroking her hair.

“Oi—Oi had the paper…”

“ _I_ , not _oi_.”

“ _I_ had the paper that advertised it, but Mother took it from me. Although, I remember it just as it said: ‘Wanted—Apprentice and Housekeeper … Paid in gold … Sir Claudius, of Beochaoineadh Castle’.”

“Beochaoineadh Castle…” He scratched his chin, looking off in the distance. “I thought it abandoned, but perhaps not. Hmph.” 

“It’s not abandoned. I’ve heard people in town talking about it.”

“I’ve no doubt about that, my little adventurer.”

“And I want to work there as a housekeeper and apprentice.”

“Apprentice? Of what?”

“Whatever Sir Claudius teaches.”

“I must see to it that I meet this man—since my daughter will be working there.”

Athena perked. “Oh, Father, really?!”

“Of course, my darling.” She hugged him so tightly it almost strangled him. 

“Thank you, Father. Promise you’ll keep it a secret,” she whispered, her silvery blue eyes as large as the full moon.

“I promise, darling.”

Mr. Everleigh stroked his daughter’s hair for a few more minutes until her breathing slowed to be in rhythm with the cascading waves of the nearby coastline. He then carried the girl off to bed.

~❦︎~❦︎~

* _Maidin mhaith a M'áthair_ \- Irish Gaelic for “Good morning, Mother”


	4. Chapter III - Beochaoineadh Castle

Morning light never touched Mrs. Everleigh’s side of the bed lest it was made. Even before the birds began their twittering, she had already risen, candle in hand, headed her way out the door. It was a daily ritual—something she had done since her first footsteps, without shoes, without proper garments, and without hesitation. She traveled through her trail in the woods—several miles, her pace never surpassing a brisk trot—and always back in time to make breakfast. The only pride she ever carried was the mud stuck to the back of her heels. 

Not two minutes had Mrs. Everleigh been out of the house when a sleek gray cat sneaked into her room. She groomed herself—tufts of silk fur flew up into the air, bouncing around and around like flurries of pollen in spring. 

Mr. Everleigh sniffled.

The cat paused, batting her silvery blue eyes. One of her white paws hung in mid-air. Then he began to snore, and so she commenced grooming. 

Eventually, Mr. Everleigh’s snores fell out of rhythm. He took several short breaths between each one, almost heaving for air. During these breaths, his chin jolted up and his beard stuck straight out. The cat continued to watch, her eyes tracing each slight muscle movement. 

Only two or three minutes had passed and Mr. Everleigh began to have a coughing fit. He rolled over to the other side of the bed, groaning all the way. It frightened the cat so, and she dashed out of the room, claws scraping the floor. 

Mr. Everleigh shook awake, sneezing and coughing one right after the other. Athena heard him from the hallway. 

“Father?” she called, peering in through the doorway. 

He groaned into the pillow which caused feathers to fly out.

“Oh, Father, are you alright?” Athena came to his bedside.

Mr. Everleigh turned his head toward the girl, laying one swollen red eye on her. He then sucked in through his nose and heaved again. 

“Is it because of the spring blossoms?” she asked, rubbing the back of his hand. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

He tried to mutter something when one of Athena’s younger sisters entered the room. Rubbing her eyes and yawning, the little one spoke: “What’s wrong with Da?”

“Oh, he’s just a little tired is all, me little one. Go back to bed.”

“But it sounded like he was a-coughin’, Annie—”

“You’re just hearin’ things. Fetch me some water, won’t you? I’m thirsty.”

“Alright, Annie.” 

Athena listened until the toddler’s footsteps no longer could be heard. She then faced her father, who had fallen back asleep. 

“Father. Father!” She placed her hands on his back and shook him until he woke.

“What? What is it?” He sat straight up, his bloodshot eyes searching around the room. “Ach! Blasted headache!” 

Mr. Everleigh began to reach for his temples when Athena placed her hand in his. “Father.”

“What?” He stared at her for a few moments, until he realized who she was. “Athena!” he called and his face softened. The deep lines around his forehead and brows disappeared. “What is it, my daughter?”

“Today we are supposed to go to Beochaoineadh Castle, Father.”

“Oh, not today, my darling,” he said, placing himself back down in bed as though it were made of rotten, splintery wood. “Ah! Oh!” 

“But, Father! You promised!” Athena pouted. She climbed up next to the old man until her silvery blue eyes challenged his red-brown ones.

“Athena, my darling, Father is in pain.” His eyes bulged out first, then squeezed shut together while he rubbed his fingers over his lower back. 

“Hmph!” She climbed over to her mother’s side of the bed and rolled off. Her little sister waited at the door.

“Here, Annie.”

“T’ank yous, little one. When Ma comes home, tell her I’ve gone to town,” she whispered. The little girl nodded, so Athena took the pail and shooed her away. 

She came to her Father’s side.

“What is that, darling?” He tilted his head forward. 

“Water, freshly drawn.” She sloshed the liquid around in the pail a few times. 

“Oh, how marvelous of you! You _are_ a kind and gentle one—” he reached for it, but she hid it behind her back.

“Only… only if you let me go today—by myself.” The girl stuck her nose in the air and shut her eyes, almost looking like a lady.

Mr. Everleigh sighed. “Now, darling, please don’t be this way. You know I do everything in the world for you. We shall go another day when I feel better.”

“But you promised _today_ —”

“I know what I promised!” he shouted. The blood veins on his arms crept up and he stared at the ceiling.

Athena still held her ground, but the pail began to sink and her eyes moved to the floor. Mr. Everleigh braced himself for the tears, but there were none. 

Instead, she slammed the pail on the ground, took hold of her skirts and twisted them into tight little balls, whispering, “If you do not let me go alone, I will tell Mother what you told me last night.”

And with that, Mr. Everleigh succumbed to not one, but two women of the household. 

~❦︎~

What brought awe to Athena’s eyes upon viewing Beochaoineadh Castle was not its size—for she had viewed greater architecture during trips to visit family in London—but rather its style. She had only ever seen it from a distance, on her way to the market, just as everyone else in the town had. But there were certain nuances about it that caught her attention when viewing it up close. The cold and bold bricks lining the outside told her to never return. There were even multiple fortresses surrounding the lower portions of the castle, as though guarding something. Of course, there were other castles like this in Ireland—she had seen them!—but they always looked to be in use. Vines twisted around Beochaoineadh Castle’s lower quarters, and there was a sharp cliff dropping off its backside, leading into the ocean. 

Athena had always loved the ocean. She had loved the sound of the waters slamming into cliffs as a little girl. But the water was so near and so loud that it pounded in her eardrums. She could not hear the birds singing or the wind rustling or the sounds of the nearby town. Beochaoineadh Castle drowned every feeling from her soul—every feeling except that which continued to propel her forward. 

Her shoes dug into the dark gravel, making a scratching sound. It looked like the gravel had never been walked on: there were no wheel marks, horse prints, or even footsteps to be found. She took the large door handle and lifted it, but the door opened on its own.

The black inside sucked the light from her face, feeding off her warmth. Her breath became mist that traveled beyond what she could see. She almost wanted to reach out and touch the blackness to test its thickness, but even without touching, she felt it enveloping her everywhere. 

The wind pushed Athena inside and the door closed behind her, ultimately enshrouding her in total darkness. She had not anticipated changing into a cat, especially upon greeting her future Master, but she had no other choice. The girl leaped into the air, in a diving position, then landed on her paws. Her dress fell into neat ruffles on the floor and her shoes lay right beside them. She would have to fetch them later. She sniffed around, searching for any kind of scent that wasn’t must or rotting stone. There. Her fur pricked up. Even in the dark, surrounded by dust-coated, ancient walls, she would always recognize that primal, earthy scent. It clogged her nostrils, fresh and alive. Fire. 

Athena sprinted, placing one paw in front of the other. The stone under her was so cold she must have been running on a frozen lake. She followed the scent of burning wood but, eventually, began following the feeling of warmth instead. Her ears perked. Almost there. Just a few more leaps. The stone beneath her paws became lighter in tone—the fire was near. 

Athena stopped, almost toppling over on herself. She felt a presence. Could it have been Sir Claudius? 

She sniffed and scouted the area, noticing bleak furniture in the corner of her eye. They led to another room. _I must be in the Grand Hall now, and that room there must be where the flames are coming from,_ she thought. 

Pitter-pattering on over toward the light, Athena listened for breathing, for movement, for anything. She knew that someone was here, but who? And, where?

 _If only I could meow and get their attention! But that wouldn’t work because_ —

“*Púca!” a man roared.

Athena reared at the dark and savage sound, her back arching and her fur sticking up as high as the rocky cliffs on the ocean shore. She sprinted all the way back through the grand hall to her clothes. Sprawling herself out on the ground, she transformed back into a human once again. She could no longer see but at least her bare body cooled down as she laid on the stone. 

Once her breathing became normal again, Athena rolled over and sat up. She began to put the dress over her head. “Agh…” she groaned upon putting her arm through the hole meant for her head. 

Eventually, the dress and shoes fit snug. She stood up and pushed what she believed to be the door when, like an orchestra’s crescendo suddenly being cut off, she stopped. 

Athena turned, walked forward a few steps, and squinted. 

“Cats may be better at the smellin’, but man’s better at the seein’,” she whispered to herself, giggling nervously. “That is, far…” she lifted up onto her tip-toes “far away.”

_How did he know that I was a púca?_

~❦︎~❦︎~

* Púca (Irish for spirit/ghost; plural púcaí) … is primarily a creature of Celtic folklore. Considered to be bringers both of good and bad fortune, they could help or hinder rural and marine communities. Púcaí can have dark or white fur or hair. The creatures were said to be shape-changers, which could take the appearance of horses, goats, cats, dogs, and hares. They may also take a human form, which includes various animal features, such as ears or a tail.


	5. Chapter IV - Isolde, the Fair Earth Maiden

_For your gentility, sensitivity, and kindness toward the land and all its creatures, we, the benevolent púcaí, have decided to grant you a unique gift._

_Isolde, the Fair Earth Maiden, your firstborn child will have the power to shape-shift, as we púcaí do. When she is of age, your child will choose whatever creature she desires, obtaining the power to shape-shift into that creature as she pleases._

_However, she will only retain this power if used for good. If used with malevolent intent, she will lose this power for the rest of her days in the mortal realm, and then she will live in the spirit realm as a malevolent púca for all time._

_Protect your daughter, Isolde. Teach her your ways. Keep it a secret amongst all men. This is a great honor, if used wisely._

She thought of the púcaí’s words as she walked.

She thought of how young she had been.

She thought of…

She once thought of _him_ with ocean waves cascading on the shore of her heart, and now she thought of _him_ with a heart all dried up.

“Oh, great púcaí,” she spoke in her native tongue of Gaelic, lifting her tall slender neck to the trees, “each day my daughter grows to be more and more malevolent.” The wind rustled in response. “I have tried to raise her to be kind and gentle—and sometimes she is—but she is becoming more and more like the man I once loved dearly, yet love no longer. He has spoiled the lass. And I notice new things about her—her contrary and manipulative ways.”

Isolde stroked a tree branch. “Púcaí, if there is anything you can do to help my family and me in this great time of sorrow, please, I beg of you, do.”


	6. Chapter V - Sir Claudius

“No more púcaí,” Sir Claudius groaned, going to check and see if the spirit had gone from his dwelling. “I cannot stand them.” 

He ran his fingers through his long dark hair—uncut. It was all black save for a few gray streaks. The sound of his boots hitting the stone floors echoed throughout the halls and into the dungeons. 

“Púca! I know you are here!” he yelled in Irish Gaelige. “I can sense you. Either state your business, or leave!” 

He wandered around for a few more moments, his torch lighting up the Grand Hall. No one had been in there for years—the last person being his previous apprentice and housekeeper. _Person_ , that is. 

“There is no use hiding from me, púca,” he declared. “You must be the same one that knocked over all of my potions the other week, is that so? That is what you must be hiding!” He swung his torch in all directions until—

Sir Claudius paused. He heard breathing. 

The torch hung in mid-air, sparks flying off before hitting the icy ground. They died on impact. 

He then crept toward the main entrance, cornering the fiendish púca. “You cannot escape me now…” His eyes began to glow, turning into balls of flame and locking on his target. 

Athena screamed. 

Sir Claudius doused the flames in his eyes. “My lass!” he called in English, sprinting to her side. “I am so sorry, my lass!” He grew stern all of a sudden, stiffening his back and standing up. “What are you doing here, so far from the village?”

“Sir Claudius?” Athena rose to her feet, but not daring to look into his eyes. 

“Yes, lass, I am Sir Claudius.”

She focused on his black boots. They were so dark they could have sunk into the floor and she would never have known. 

He tried to lift her head with his eyes, but could not. 

“Sir Claudius.” She hastily curtsied, as though compensating for her rather unruly state. 

He almost laughed and lifted a brow, cutting into his forehead. “Might I ask your name, lass?”

“Oh, of course!” The girl peeked into his face for a moment but immediately dropped her head again. Her scalp looked like golden rivers of fresh honey. “It’s Athena. Athena Everleigh.”

Sir Claudius’ brow fell and the flames from his torch sparked, snapping and crackling. He turned around and began pacing. 

“Is there a problem, Sir?”

“No, no, nothing. I suppose I—I have not heard a name like that in… many, _many_ years.” He ran his free hand through his hair. There were long scars upon his fingers, not unlike the scars she had seen on fishermen’s hands. “Athena,” he whispered, feeling the name in his mouth—his back still toward the girl.

“Yes, Sir?” She stepped closer.

“Oh, no, not you.” He waved the back of his hand at her. 

“Well, Sir,” she spoke, taken aback, “I have come here for a reason.”

“And what would that be?” He turned to face the girl.

“Well, first, I—I…” She paused for a moment, her silvery blue eyes whirring about the room before focusing on Sir Claudius. She studied his torso. “Achoo!” 

He leapt backwards.

“Oh, Sir, forgive me! I have awful allergies come springtime.” She grabbed her handkerchief and commenced wiping her nose, although nothing came out. 

“Yes, I see,” he said. “Hmm… you wouldn’t happen to be allergic to cats, too, now would you?”

She grinned. “Why, yes, that too! Might you have a cat?”

“I wish I didn’t.” 

Athena giggled, the apples of her cheeks ripening. 

Sir Claudius allowed a few of his teeth to show. “Now, why have you come here, Miss Everleigh? A young English lass in Ireland is something I wouldn’t have expected, but a young English lass in my castle… that is nearly impossible.”

“Oh, Sir, I am not English!” she laughed, looking into his eyes. “Well, partially, yes.” Athena twisted her brows and touched her index fingers together. “See, my father is an Englishman—born in London. He met my mother on a visit to Dublin one day... and two years later came I!”

“A hasty conclusion might I add.” Sir Claudius grinned but Athena’s eyes remained focused on the ground. He cleared his throat. “I digress. What is the reason for your coming, Miss Everleigh?”

She shifted her feet. “Sir Claudius, I have come for work. I found your advertisement while in town. You are still seeking an— a housekeeper, yes?

He shuddered, but not due to the castle’s chill. “Where are your parents?”

“My father did not feel well this morning. He had planned to come with me but—”

“And your mother?”

Athena’s stomach shot up into her throat. “Well, she—she goes on walks in the mornings and then must take care of the children. I am the eldest of eight.”

“Why aren’t you tending to the children, seeing as you’re the eldest?”

“Sir, please, I want to help support my family.”

He scratched his beard. “How old are you?”

She bit her lip. “Nearly sixteen, Sir.”

“So you are fifteen, then,” he spat. 

“Sir, I—”

”Yes, you are hired, Miss. Come back here by tomorrow at 9 a.m. Sharp.” He turned on his heels, the boots squeaking across the floor. His cape flapped, almost hitting her in the face. 

Athena Everleigh did not know whether to leap for joy, or to fall on the ground in tears. Everything about Sir Claudius was a sea of contradictions. _Should I return? Does he know..?_

Eventually, the girl rose and saw herself out the door. Once out of the castle’s sight, she transformed and headed home.


	7. Chapter VI - The Letter-Hoarding Dragon

As Sir Claudius opened the letters, dusty windstorms hurled into his face and blew up into his nostrils. He coughed and hacked until reaching the one he wanted. It was the final letter in his treasure chest full of them—he had packed it so low so that he might never read it again, unless absolutely necessary. 

He moved his eyes straight to the date, not daring to read the letter’s contents. 

“The Seventh of June, 1885,” he muttered. His breath created a warm path that broke through the dusty air. 

Sir Claudius tossed the letter back into the chest, slammed down the top, and locked it in one deft motion. He tried to slow his breathing, but even after hundreds of years, he still had not mastered the art of human respiration. If only he had some flames to help him breathe. Ah, yes, nice hot flames. Flames. Fire! 

“Ay, old fool!” He smacked himself upon the forehead. “She’ll be here any minute… That is, if she comes at all.” His boots squeaked across the floor and his black locks trailed behind him until he reached the living area’s grand fireplace. After grabbing the old logs and launching them into the furnace, Sir Claudius inhaled through his nose. Nothing came out, except human air. “Come on, just a wee bit of flame today? I haven’t the time to make it ‘man’s way’,” he complained. “Come on, old friend!” He scratched his nose, stimulating the smoke.

Little trickles of smoke began to spiral out of his nostrils, and soon enough, out of his mouth, too. “Ah, there we go!” His eyes turned blue and yellow and red while his stomach filled, the familiar feel of flames burning his ribcage. Sparks shot all about his insides, bouncing off the walls and ready to be released. One final gasp, then the flames spewed out of his mouth, lighting the firewood. “See, it was not that bad, now was it?” He tapped his nose. “It is nearly 9 a.m., isn’t it?” he asked the dead, thin air. Sir Claudius shrugged then glanced at the Grandfather clock next to the fireplace. It read: 11 p.m. “Oh, but you haven’t cooed in years. I’d forgotten.” With that, the man dismissed the clock and headed toward the main entryway. 

It was completely dark save for the slivers of light coming from under the large doors as well as what little flare could be seen from the far-away fireplace. How the girl ever managed to get in the main doors without screaming and running off baffled him. _Were the doors even locked?_ he pondered. The previous housekeepers always locked the doors, but Sir Claudius had done it not even once.

He laughed at his own foolishness. The sound echoed for a while, then a dear and intimate silence swaddled him up like a newborn baby. It was a silence that had been at his side, unbeknownst, for twenty years.

The silence soon passed, and Sir Claudius thought he heard footsteps falling on pebbles. He grasped onto the door handles and reared back, the muscles on his arms protruding. Light tore into his pale eyes, and not light from fireplace flames—not safe warm reds tinged with blues. It was a light he had not seen in some odd year. 

Athena Everleigh sang to herself, a song about early morning dew, as she trotted down the walkway. When her eyes caught his, the song ended abruptly upon her tongue. “Good morning, Sir Claudius.”

“Good morning, Miss Everleigh.” 

Without even summoning them, Sir Claudius felt flames licking his ribcage when he looked at her. He doused the flames, though. She was not pale, as he was. She had freckles circling her scarlet apples and they spilled down from there and made a home on her neck and chest. 

Athena had only seen flashes of him, bathed in red and black—black cloak and black hair and black boots, and red torch and red undershirt and red… eyes. But here, he was not red and black. In the sun, his skin was almost the color of her eyes. She looked closer, scouring over his form, until reaching his eyes which she expected to be balls of flame but instead matched hers of silvery-blue. In the dark, Sir Claudius was a flame, but in the sun, he was a snowflake. 

He squinted, and so she hurried until in the arms of darkness once again. “Sir Claudius, I cannot see,” she spoke, as soft as a kitten. 

“Ach!” He smacked himself on the forehead. “Come, let us sit by the fireside and discuss your duties.” He led her to the fireplace of the Grand Hall. 

Sir Claudius took his seat in a large, lavish, although musty, chair. It obtained red and gold embroidery of what she thought to be snakes. He motioned for her to sit opposite of him, in a chair that would have been comfortable if it had been plumped and dusted properly—which it certainly was not at the moment. 

“I expect that you’ve done housework before, yes?”

“Yes, Sir, I’ve cleaned my own house for years.”

“Very well, then you know how to dust and sweep and make the beds?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You know how to set the table and clean the shutters and light a fire and draw water from the well?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I also expect you to take trips for me to the village, and Dublin, too, when you can.”

“Yes, Sir.” 

He scratched his beard. “I once had stables but they have not been tended to in a few years. I’m sure the horses have all passed on—”

Athena gasped, covering her strawberry mouth with her freckled hand. 

“So there will be no need for you to tend to them.” 

“Yes… Sir Claudius,” she whispered. “Were there no stableboys?” 

“No, I’m afraid not,” he said, staring into the fire.

She said nothing more, but rather, stared into the fire, too. 

“I don’t expect you to do anything on the grounds much, besides drawing water,” he told her. 

“Well, I do love tending to gardens,” she said. “Wouldn’t you like fresh vegetables, Sir? I would be happy to plant one, although since it’s well into spring, I wouldn’t be able to plant much.” 

“Whatever you wish. My other… housekeepers typically bought vegetables from the costermongers with the money I gave them.”

Athena perked, drawing her eyes away from the fire. 

“And that is likely why you’re here,” he said. “‘Paid in gold’?”

“Ay…” she paused to clear her throat, thinking. “Sir, I only wanted… I only wanted to work to provide for my family, as I said yesterday. I will take whatever you wish to offer.”

“I see.” The coldest words he could have said. Athena’s head drooped to the floor. “Then I will pay whatever you wish to have.” 

“Oh, oh, sir!” she spoke, smiling and looking into his eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The flames in his stomach tickled him, so much so he couldn’t help but grin, too. 

~❦︎~

“You—you wouldn’t mind if I opened the shutters, now would you?!” Athena called, yanking at the tall, maroon drapes. She heaved and heaved but still they would not come apart.

“Oh, Miss Everleigh!” Sir Claudius dropped his journal and pen and rushed to her side. “Let me help you.” 

He grabbed onto the fabric, and she caught a glimpse of his large muscles protruding from his pale skin, before latching onto them herself. They both pulled together, until finally the shutters came apart and light filtered in through the castle. 

“My goodness! How long have they been shut?” She dusted off her dress and turned to look at Sir Claudius. He was staring at her. 

“I’m not sure, Miss Everleigh,” he mumbled, his bluish-pink lips hardly moving at all. 

“Oh, well, I’m sure it’s been quite some time,” she laughed.

“Yes, quite some time.” He returned to his study. “Oh, my, I’ve forgotten to put the date on this journal entry!” he complained.

“Well, it’s the 10th of April, Sir. Does that help?” She giggled as she dusted the shutters. 

“Yes, thank you!” He wrote it down hastily before pausing again. “Say, Miss Everleigh, it seems I’ve forgotten the year, too. Each time a new year begins, I always want to write down the previous one. I never write the actual year. A nasty habit I have, I suppose you could say. Now what is it: 1889 or 1890?”

Athena stopped her dusting and left her hand in the middle of the window, which caused a great shadow to form over the Grand Hall. She breathed in the cold air. “Sir, it’s 1905.” 

He laughed—a deep bellow. “Now Miss Everleigh, you must be teasing me. It can’t have been that long ago—”

“What couldn’t have been that long ago?” she queried, cocking her head.

Sir Claudius bit the top of his pen. “Nothing...” he trailed off.

She began dusting again, slower this time. “Sir… The year _is_ 1905.”

“I know,” he spoke, his voice as grave and chilled as the dungeons below the castle. “Twenty years….”


	8. Chapter VII - Mother Earth, Father Time

Two weeks passed of Athena waiting for her mother to disappear into the forest, then bribing one of the older children to care for the rest of the bunch, and finally convincing her little sister she was headed to the market before venturing to Beochaoineadh Castle with her father. Mr. Everleigh had given up on meeting Sir Claudius, as the girl insisted on parting ways at the castle’s pebbled driveway. Even if Mr. Everleigh wanted to go inside the castle to speak with the man, he had to work for his family, going straight to selling his wares on the streets. All that mattered to him was that his daughter was still just as beautiful as the day she began working, and that she brought home gold coins at the end of each week. 

But beauty and gold can’t keep secrets forever. 

Athena snuck in through the back door, in cat form, skirting past her mother who sat knitting clothes for the children. She made headway for the bedroom when Mrs. Everleigh called, “*Iníon!”

Her ears drooped. Athena leapt into the air, lifted her forearms, and tucked her hind legs. 

“Lass, you shouldn’t be doin’ t’at here,” Mrs. Everleigh whispered—fierce, her eyes turning the color of the fireside.

“Ay, Ma, I just—”

“Where did ya leave your dress and shoes?”

Athena stared at the floorboards.

“Speak up.”

“Outside da window of my bedroom.”

“Why are dey dere?”

“I was tryin’ ta come in t’rough da window but ‘twas locked. I had been draggin’ me clothes back from town and left ‘em dere.” She turned. “I’ll go get—”

“No, we’ve ot’er t’ings ta discuss.”

Athena pulled her hair over to one side and dragged her feet across the floorboards. She grabbed a blanket from the settee to cover herself. 

“Why were ya out so late, me lass?” Mrs. Everleigh looked her daughter in the eye. “You’ve never been to da market dis late at night. Besides, we’ve food a plenty from your other visits dis week.” 

“I only wanted ta take an evenin’ stroll, Ma.” She rubbed her bare arms. 

Mrs. Everleigh’s eyes moved back to her knitting. She was making a light blue dress, high at the collar and frilled out at the bottom with strawberry buttons. Athena knew it was hers not by the size but the color. Mrs. Everleigh took a slow breath in yet quickly let it out. It was the loudest sound in the room on that quiet night. 

“Ma, you must believe me.”

Mrs. Everleigh grew cold. “I don’t know what ta believe anymore. You’re gone everyday and never do what I ask of you. None of da chores. You don’t take care of da children while I’m gone. ‘Tis your responsibility as da elder sister and you have done none of it for da past two weeks.”

Athena’s eyes bulged with tears but she drew them back in.

“But, you can prove ta me t’at you’re still benevolent if you do what I ask.”

The girl lifted her head, her watery eyes catching the firelight. “What’s t’at, Ma? I’ll do anyt’ing, I promise.” 

“Tomorrow, you must care for da children while I’m gone. Den, after breakfast, you will teach your youngest sister to use da washboard.” 

Athena caught a lump in her throat. “Yes… Ma.” She shivered.

Mrs. Everleigh put down her knitting to look at her daughter. “You know I only ask dis of you because I want you ta grow ta be a gentle and benevolent soul. You have a unique gift, iníon. I know da tricks you play on your father.”

Athena stiffened. 

“I’ve known for awhile now. You must not use your gift in such a way. All I want ta know is why you did it.”

Athena’s eyes darted across the room. “I—I don’t know, Ma.” The tears she had been holding back came out in floods, streaking across the ground.

“Me lass, it’s alright.” Mrs. Everleigh came nearer to her daughter and wiped away her tears. “You are so young and ‘tis alright to make mistakes.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him, Ma…”

“You didn’t, me lass. But he wasn’t able to work for several days, you know dat.”

“Yes, Ma,” she sniveled. “I’m sorry.”

“But why did you do it?” Mrs. Everleigh lifted the girl’s chin, but Athena wouldn’t look at her.

“I wanted—I wanted ta go out by meself. I didn’t want ta have ta wait for him ta escort me ta town everyday. I love walkin’ with him, Ma, but I—was ready ta go on me own.” Athena covered her eyes with the blanket.

“Ah, I see,” Mrs. Everleigh spoke, understanding. “You’ve always been a fiery lass in dat way.” Athena lifted her head and smiled the slightest bit. “I am not fiery like you are, iníon. I don’t know where you got it from.” They both giggled. “Perhaps it’s da cat in ya. I should’ve known you’d want ta go out on your own.”

“Oh, Ma, t’anks for understandin’!” Athena hugged her mother. “So, you’ll let me go den? Out ta town by myself?!”

Mrs. Everleigh shook her head. “You may be Milly half da time, but da ot’er half, you’re me daughter. You still have your duties about da house. You’ve got your brothers and sisters ta look after, too.” Athena sunk into the couch. “I know you lean toward your áthair because you are his prize, but my daughter, I know who you are. I know you more dan your áthair does.”

Athena stared into the flames, chills running over her body. 

“Da spirits of da earth connect us, iníon. Dey look after us. Dat is somet’ing dat your áthair will never understand.” Mrs. Everleigh pressed her lips upon her daughter’s forehead. “From now on, you will do your duties around da house half da week, den da ot’er, you may go explorin’.” A thin smile spread across Athena’s lips, but she didn’t look into her mother’s eyes. “I must finish me knittin’ now. You go on ta bed.”

Athena rose from the settee and wrapped the blanket around her like a nightgown. She headed toward the bedroom, laid one of her palm’s down on the doorframe, then turned her head to face her mother. “Ma?”

“Yes, me lass?” 

“I will do what you asked of me tomorrow, I promise.”

Mrs. Everleigh’s smile flashed brightly in the firelight. “Dat’s a good lass. Now get on to bed.” She shooed the girl off with one of her knitting needles.

Athena grinned the same thin smile. “Yes, Ma.”

~❦︎~

Mr. Everleigh awoke with a sharp inhale through the nose. He spread his arms out to the side, like a bird opening its wings for the first time in the morning. _Today is going to be a good day_ , he said to himself. With his wife out in the forest, Athena off making money, and the children still asleep, life was good. The birds twittered outside the window, singing to him. 

He threw one leg off the bed, then the other, and slid into his slippers. Rubbing his eyes and scratching his beard, the man walked out of his room. Light bolted in through the windows, grasping the brown, dusty kitchen. All the pots and pans were tucked in nice and neat in the cupboards, waiting for his wife to wake them up. Mr. Everleigh could hear the children’s gentle breaths hailing from their rooms. 

“Ach!” He popped his back, then searched for the nearest place to sit. His eyes landed on the dining table and so he plopped down into one of the old wooden chairs, not caring if it were his seat or not. “That’s a little better,” he groaned, his face still twisted and tense. Mr. Everleigh glanced about the room, noticing familiar golden brown waves. 

“Athena!” he called, rising and rushing to her side—all the while rubbing his lower back. “My girl, you blend in with the living room. I didn’t even notice you were here!” 

“Yes, Father, I’ve been here,” the girl muttered, not even moving her mouth. He sat down in the seat across from her nearest the fireplace. 

“What is wrong, my darling? Why haven’t you gone to your work?” The wrinkles around his face loosened as his daughter began to cry. “Oh, Athena, please tell Father. You know I’d do anything in the world to make you happy.” He scooted the chair closer to her, wood against wood, so he could hold her hand. The screech likely woke the other children, not that they mattered. 

She wiped a tear away. “Mother told me not to go…”

“How did that ole wench find out!?” he shouted.

“I don’t think she knows about Sir Claudius, Father, but she doesn’t like that I’ve been spending all of me days ‘in town’.”

“Ah,” his eyes softened, “I see.” Athena had a handkerchief in her lap. Her silvery blue eyes were encircled with red, and her cheeks were puffy—not rosy. 

“What then did she tell you?”

“She told me I could only go out a few times a week—not every day. The rest of the days I must stay here and help her with the house and children while you’ve gone to work.”

Mr. Everleigh let go of his daughter’s hand, grimacing. He stared out the window and flared his nostrils, while his face turned just as fiery red as Athena’s. 

“So that means you won’t be getting paid as much as you have these past couple weeks.”

“Yes, Father… That is, if Sir Claudius still decides to pay me.”

“Well, he’s got to! You’ve got to get dressed and go there now and tell him!” He shooed her away.

“But Mother will be back here any minute now,” Athena protested, though softly. 

Mr. Everleigh gazed at the pollen falling out of the sky. The sunlight changed his coloration into a bright, burnt orange and turned his face shape into that of a decrepit potato. A frown seeped into his wrinkles—wrinkles from years of waking up and going to work without a will. 

“That gold,” he said, feeling the coins in his hand but only grasping air, “is the most important thing you will ever make.” He rose and went to the window. “If you have gold, _we_ , your family, won’t have to work as hard as we do now.”

Athena lifted her head. “I know, Father, that’s why I wanted to—”

“This gold, it’s a precious thing,” he spoke, shutting his ears. “I know that. _We_ know that, you and I. And do you know why we know that?”

Athena shook her head.

“Because we’re people of the future.” 

The girl opened her eyes, her tears like river waters bursting through a dam. 

“We’re thinkers, innovators. People like your mother don’t think the way we do. They don’t plan accordingly. They’re selfish, Athena. They don’t think of the future generations.”

She nodded. 

“I know you, Athena, more than your Mother ever will. That’s why you’re my favorite. You’re not like the rest of the children, and you never have been. That’s why I always wanted you to go to Dublin and learn to be a lady with the rest of your cousins.”

“Father… please, you know I don’t want to go.”

“I know, darling.” He stumbled over to his daughter and petted her hand. “Besides, your aunts and uncles and cousins don’t have near enough the intelligence that you have.” She giggled, gently placing her fingers over her pink mouth. “You are better off here anyway, where you can get the gold.” 

“Yes, Father,” she said. “Father?”

“Yes, dear Athena?”

“Every day you’ve been walking me to Beochaineadh Castle, and we part ways and you go on to town. But, I want to go on my own. I’m tired of being treated like a child. So, I _will_ go today if you let me go on my own.”

He smiled. “I commend you for your independent spirit, my daughter. Of course! You’re no child—you’re a young lass now.”

Athena grinned a thin smile, her lips as small as a needle thread. 

“You go on now. I’ll be leaving soon after you,” he said. “It will be our little secret.”

“Alright, Father. Goodbye.” She kissed him on the cheek, as she did every morning, and trotted over to the door. Once out, the girl ran off into the forest and perched behind a tree, waiting on him to leave. A few moments later, he had changed into his work clothes and whistled as he trudged on to the village.

Athena waited for her mother. When Mrs. Everleigh came, she came as slow as turtles. 

“Iníon!” the woman called, her dress weaving in and out of the blades of tall grass. 

“ _Maidin mhaith a M'athair_ ,” Athena greeted, jumping through the grass to reach her.

“Have you woken da children yet?” Mrs. Everleigh asked, as bright and beautiful and gentle as the morning flowers. She spread her arms out, feeling the sun.

“No, Ma.”

“Well, t’at’s alright. Let’s go in den.” She walked up the stone steps leading to the back door.

Athena stopped her mother, grabbing Mrs. Everleigh by the hand. “Ma, I have somet’in’ ta tell ya.” 

“What’s t’at, me lass?” 

“I lied to Pa and told ‘im I was gone ta town. He asked me dis mornin’ why I wasn’t goin’ and I didn’t know what to say. He t’inks I’m gone….”

“Oh, me lass.” Mrs. Everleigh hugged her daughter. “‘Tis alright. We’ll keep it a secret between us that you’re stayin’ here to help. I’ll tell da youngin’s not to say anyt’ing eit’er to your áthair.”

“I didn’t mean to lie but I didn’t want to upset him,” Athena said. 

“‘Tis alright to lie to t’at’ man. He won’t listen to da truth anyhow.”

Athena dropped her head.

Mrs. Everleigh began to laugh. “I commend ya, me lass.” She put a hand on her daughter’s shoulders. “Don’t look t’at way. Ya did da right t’ing.” The woman opened the door and walked inside. Athena remained on the porch, her eyes stuck to the stone. 

~❦︎~❦︎~

* Iníon - Irish Gaelic for “Daughter”


	9. Chapter VIII - The Unlikeliest of Companions

Sir Claudius paced, back and forth from one side of the fireplace to the other. Three days she had been gone. He still lit the fire in the hopes that she would come, but more than anything, it brought him comfort. Breathing in the flames warmed his insides and reminded him of home. 

For two weeks, Athena had cleaned the cupboards, washed the drapes, made his bed, set his table, dusted his furniture… Sometimes she would be cleaning a room, and he would move all of his stationary to that room just to listen to her hum. And then sometimes they would talk. Talk about anything. Her family. His journaling. Her love of the forest. His love of books (and hers too, he later found out). 

But for three days she had been gone. So, he paced, then sat and journaled, paced, then breathed in the flames, journaled, then paced, then picked a book off the now-dusted shelves, and read. Bleak reminders of the days before her. 

Today would make the fourth day and he wondered if she would come. 

There was an urgent knocking that echoed throughout the hallways. 

Sir Claudius halted for a moment, releasing his finger from his scruffy chin, then he sprinted through the Grand Hall, rushing to reach the tall doors. He slowed down, taking a few breaths, and brushed his cape off. 

“Miss Everleigh?” he called as he opened the doors.

“Sir Claudius,” he recognized her soft voice, “please forgive me.” 

“For what, Miss Everleigh?” The man ushered her inside. There was no longer a dark and relentless wind pulling her closer. Rather, light from the tall windows greeted her as she entered the Grand Hall, on her own.

“I haven’t worked in three days, Sir, and I apologize.” She curtsied, her pale blue dress spreading out across the floor.

“Oh, yes,” he spoke. “That is quite alright. I’m just content to be in your presence once more.”

Athena lifted her head. “Sir, I will only be able to work now four days a week.”

Sir Claudius’s heart fell and all the flames in his stomach were blown away by a strong wind. There was a forest fire upon seeing her, but now the landscape of his insides was barren. He cleared his throat. “You understand I will have to dock your pay, Miss Everleigh?” He clasped his hands together behind his back.

“Yes, Sir.” She bowed her head once more, then started off to the lower quarters of the castle to fetch her cleaning supplies. “I shall begin my work now.” 

“Wait!” The man held a hand out in the air, reaching after her. She stopped, faced him, and cocked her head. “Why—why did you go? Go, I mean, for three days? Why must you work for four now?”

She whispered, though audible, “My mother wants me to take care of the children more, since I am the eldest, Sir. She needs help… Sir. My father is gone everyday and the second oldest child is but eleven.” 

“Only eleven? But aren’t you almost sixteen?”

“Yes, Sir, I actually turn sixteen next week.” She perked, the color returning to her cheeks and mouth. “My mother expects me to—work here—but also balance my time.”

“I see,” he said. 

“And I couldn’t come for the three days because she wouldn’t let me. She was upset because I had stayed gone so long.”

“Your mother is strict, I understand.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Sir Claudius,” Athena giggled, petting her hair. 

“Tell me more,” he said, walking to her side. “I shall accompany you to the lower quarters.”

“Oh, Sir, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you have other affairs to attend to.”

“What affairs? Journaling? Reading? There is nothing to spend my time here that I haven’t already done for years and years.”

She glanced into his eyes the same colors as hers. “Except to speak with me?”

“Yes.” He looked into hers too. “I’ve noticed that we have the same color eyes, Miss Everleigh.”

“Imagine that.” She tore away, ruffling her skirts. 

“Yes, dark blue circling the outside and silvery blue on the inside. I’ve never seen anyone with the exact same color.”

“You must not get out much then, Sir Claudius,” Athena toyed with him.

“You are exactly right, Miss Everleigh, I don’t.”

“I figured you had been everywhere, since you have all those books and you know how to read and write.” 

“Well, I—” He scratched his beard and turned to face the floor. Athena caught a glimpse of his eyes, studying them as he studied the stones. A small scar lined the inner corner of his left eye—something she had never noticed before. But she had never looked into his eyes for so long before, and facing this direction, too. “I once went places and saw people—many places and many people. But, now, I haven’t been out of this castle in twenty years….” Sir Claudius lifted his head and slowly—shyly—moved his eyes in Athena’s direction. 

She gasped, darting her eyes to the wall across from him. “There are quite a few torches on these walls, yet are never lit, Sir Claudius.”

“No reason to, Miss Everleigh,” he replied. “I haven’t had guests in a number of years.” 

“Of course,” she spoke, before stopping in her tracks.

He stopped too. “What’s the matter?”

She twisted her face, breathed in, puffed her cheeks, and let out a deep laugh. “Sir Claudius, we’ve already passed the room where I keep my supplies.” She nearly heaved over laughing. “I can be such a fool sometimes!” 

He chuckled, following the movements of her neck muscles. “Silly, yes—but a fool, no.”

She stopped laughing, the sounds echoing throughout the dim hallways until fading away.

“Oh, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, Miss Everleigh. Do forgive me.” He dropped his head, almost in a bowing position. His voice was the softest he had ever spoken in front of her, almost like what the moon would sound like if it had a sound. 

“No, Sir Claudius, you haven’t offended me. Actually,” she showed her teeth, letting out some air, “you are quite right.” 

His eyes met hers. 

“No one knows how silly I can be sometimes—how playful I’d _like_ to be. Mother expects me to be serious and care for the children, without playing with them. The children of the village only whisper behind my back when I go to town, not knowing how much I long to run and skip with them. And Father… well, Father knows I like to be frivolous and adventurous, and he knows I’m not a fool but...”

“But what?”

“He doesn’t fully understand me. There are certain things that Mother knows about me which Father does not know about, and certain things Father knows about me which Mother does not know about.”

“I suppose it is that way with all children and their parents,” Sir Claudius interjected.

“But that does not make it any easier.” She shook her head, hugged herself about the shoulders, and headed toward the supply room. “And I’m not a child.”

Sir Claudius lifted an eyebrow and grinned. He felt a flame light in his stomach while watching her hips sway and the skirts wave. The ruffles could pick up just as much dust as any broom. Besides, he’d rather watch her than a broom any day. 

“I did not directly mean that _you_ were a child, Miss Everleigh,” he spoke, sifting his gloved fingers through his long and stiff black hair.

“Well, I’m not.” She grabbed the handle of a broom out of the supply closet, and swiftly commenced sweeping. “Father likes to pretend that I am. He says he’ll buy me new books and that I can do things on my own now since I’m a ‘young lady’… And sometimes he lets me do things, but he still talks to me like I’m eight. He would walk me here everyday if it weren’t for the gold.” She pushed the broom even harder, leaving bristle streaks across the floor.

“Whatever do you mean, Miss Everleigh?” Sir Claudius’s eyebrows twitched.

“Oh, forgive me, Sir Claudius. I’ve said too much. You mustn’t pay me any mind.” 

“I like listening to you, Miss Everleigh. There is nothing else for me to do.”

She blushed. “Well, if you insist—”

“Which I do.”

She paused and put both hands on top of the broom handle. “My father really only wants me to work here because of the gold, and when my mother told me to only work for four days out of the week, Father grew cross. So, I—told him I would come everyday out of the week if he would let me walk by myself.”

“But you haven’t come here everyday of the week,” Sir Claudius stated, arching one of his thick black brows, cutting a line into his pale skin.

“Yes, I know. I lied so that he would be happy, and I didn’t come so that my mother would be happy.”

She began to sweep again. Sir Claudius remained silent, stroking his beard. 

“I have to pretend in front of everyone, Sir Claudius. I have a face for my mother, a face for my father, a face for the children, a face for the townspeople…. I’ve never been Athena Everleigh. I’ve only ever been ‘darling’, or ‘iníon’, or ‘lass’, or ‘Annie’—which is what my siblings call me.” She sighed, resting her chin on the broom handle.

Sir Claudius leaned forward. “Would you prefer me calling you Athena Everleigh from now on?”

She smiled, took her chin off the broom handle, and began sweeping again. “Athena’s just fine.” She looked at him. “Thank you.”

“Of course… Athena.” He watched her push a few times. “Why did your father name you that?”

“My father loved Greek and Roman mythology.”

“‘Loved’?”

“He does not speak about it much anymore. Now he only speaks of work and gold and the future. But when I was a little girl, before the others were born, he read me stories of great Greek and Roman gods and goddesses and heroes and beasts… I used to love them, but I have not heard many of them in years.”

“Do you know who Athena is?”

“Of course I do!” She laughed. “You think I wouldn’t know the origin of me own name— Ooh, _my_ own name?”

“You are just as Irish as ever,” he said, his eyes shimmering. 

She rolled her eyes. “Anyhow—Athena is the Greek goddess of war and wisdom. Everyone knows that.”

“Not around here, they don’t.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Do you… identify with her?”

“Sometimes I do.”

“In what way?”

“Father only really ever read the story of Odysseus to me, and then told me the tales of her changing Arachne into a spider, and Medusa into a monster. Sometimes I thought she was awful for doing such cruel things to people, but the older I’ve gotten, the more I almost like it. I like that she was cunning and creative—that she told Odysseus and her other chosen people to be mischievous.” Her eyes shone like fire. “There’s an art to mischief anyhow.” 

“So you’re mischievous then?” 

“Oh, Sir Claudius, I’m not mischievous. I merely know _how_ to be mischievous.”

“Would you call lying to your father mischievous?”

She quieted, pausing sweeping to think. Each time she stopped, she would either grab the handle or rest her chin on it. This time, she lifted up onto her tiptoes to think harder. “No, I call it keeping the peace.” And she kept sweeping.

Sir Claudius’s shoulders rose and dipped, as he convulsed with great laughter. He was broader about the shoulders than at the waist, and nearly two heads taller than Athena, so when he moved it startled her. “You don’t think he will find out sooner or later?”

“I hope not,” she whispered.

He wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “Pardon?”

Louder this time, “I hope he does not find out.”

“I-I’m sorry, Athena. It’s just I haven’t had company in quite some time and certainly haven’t heard something as funny as that in an even longer time.”

She giggled. “It wasn’t even funny. I’m telling the truth, Sir!” She turned to him and smiled. “You say that _I’m_ silly. Look at yourself!” 

He pressed his back up against the wall and slid down, continuing to laugh.

“Sir!” she called after him, dropping the broomstick and running to his side. “Did you hit your head?”

“No,” he laughed. “Oh, Athena, how embarrassing this is for me.”

“It’s quite alright, Sir,” she giggled. “I understand.”

“Where were we anyhow? Oh, yes, with your father and the gods and goddesses. Go on!”

“Oh, ay, Sir… Well, I like that Athena is also wise. I find it interesting that the Goddess of Wisdom can also be cunning. I don’t see why the two can’t go hand in hand.”

Sir Claudius calmed down, taking deep breaths in and out. She thought she saw smoke coming out of his nostrils, but dismissed it, thinking it was mist. After all, the lower portions of the castle were mighty cold. 

“I find that interesting, too, Athena.” All at once, color came into his face—color she hadn’t even thought existed on his skin. His cheeks glowed red. It almost reminded her of their first encounter when she saw his eyes—something she rather wished to forget.

Sir Claudius almost leapt from his crouching position against the wall. He cleared his throat and stood tall. “Excuse me, Miss Everleigh,” he spoke, in a darker voice. “You must forgive my rather unruly state.”

“I forgive you, Sir. I only hope that you’re alright.”

“I’m quite well. You continue with your sweeping now.” He turned and walked the other direction, his boots squeaking across the floor and his cape flowing like dark streams of water. 

“Yes, Sir,” she mumbled, picking the broom up and tossing the handle around. Once he was gone, she thought to herself, _I only hope I didn’t reveal too much._


	10. Chapter IX - Master of Potions

Sir Claudius flipped the pages in his book of potions, searching for the one that would detect, and eventually lead him to, púcaí. He trailed his fingers over the words, skimming and skimming, until he met the drawing of a light blue potion. “Ah, there you are!” He muttered the ingredients to himself, then read the directions. “ _Bog breath_ —the main ingredient!” He ran over to his table and opened the drawer which contained vials of labeled liquids. He sifted through them until reaching for one with a dark green and brown liquid inside. “It’s been years since I’ve opened this!” He retrieved his mixing bowl, popped the top off the liquid, and inhaled its dank scent. “Ah… smells just like I remember.” He poured a generous amount into the bowl, causing a green mist to form. “I really should measure this but haven’t the time,” he muttered, leaning over to read the rest of the ingredients and directions. 

“Three shakes of _pucaí mist_ … I’m not sure how much of that I have left.” Sir Claudius went to another table and opened its drawers. “No.” He opened another. “No!” He then ran to an armoire which contained even more liquids and gases and spices and… other smelly inhabitants—rotten toes and fingers from various animals. Sir Claudius pinched his nose, running his free hand over the vials. Then, there it was. The vial was the lightest of blues, almost white like the moon. It was the color that spirits such as wisps and púcaí left behind. It would help to attract and locate the púca he was after. He traveled to his mixing bowl, popped off the top, and gently shook the mist out, careful to not waste any. “Now, what’s the final ingredient? … _An appendage from the animal that the púca shapeshifts into_.” He shuddered, looking over toward the armoire. Sir Claudius grabbed some gloves from below his main table and tiptoed over to the armoire. He sucked in air and puffed out his cheeks, almost wanting to shut his eyes so he didn’t have to look at the thing. He pinched the rotten cat tail between his forefinger and thumb, lifted it into the air, skirted across the floor, and tossed it into the mixing bowl. It made a loud splash, but the bowl was big enough to not let anything spill out. 

He mixed until thoroughly combined and the stench fell away. He let the air out of his mouth and panted for a moment. “There, ‘tis done.” Sir Claudius poured the light blue mixture into a container, sealed the top, and kissed it. He then took an inkpen and labeled it: _Púcaí Locater_. “Now, no púcaí will be able to escape me!” 

Sir Claudius set it off to the side and moved to his other creation: an English translation of the stories of the Greek goddess Athena. For the past week, he had searched throughout his extensive library for Greek books, documents, and scrolls that depicted the goddess—then translated them to English in a journal. He wrote side commentary specifically for Miss Everleigh, with analysis as well as facts she might find intriguing. 

He had slipped a short note into the fold of the journal, planning on giving it to her right before she left at the end of the day. Sir Claudius swept the journal under his arm and dashed out of the dungeon, taking his torch with him. 

Laying the journal down on his table next to the fireside in the living area, he waited for those three unmistakeable knocks on the doors. After a few moments, he began pacing, almost wishing he could run outside and give the journal to her then and there. 

Sooner or later, the three knocks sounded throughout the Grand Hall. Sir Claudius made a straight shot, like a bullet, to the doors. He slicked his hair back with his gloved palms before revealing himself. 

“Ah, Miss Everleigh!” he exclaimed. “How glad I am to see you on such an occasion as this!” 

“And what would that be?” Athena raised one of her golden eyebrows as she walked inside. 

“You are now sixteen years of age, yes?” His face turned even paler, the color of snow. 

“I’m only pulling your leg, Sir Claudius,” she giggled.

“Oh, oh!” He laughed, too, a slight bit of color returning to his cheeks. “I wish you the best of birthdays, Miss Everleigh.”

“Why, thank you, Sir Claudius. I’m surprised you remembered.” 

“You’ve—grown since you began working here,” he said, stumbling over the words and taking in a gulp of air.

“A full three weeks no doubt!” Athena called, looking at him and smiling. He got lost in her watery-blue eyes, like a lake when it first ices over. “Well, I’d better get started on my duties.” She began to head to the lower portions of the castle.

“Athena, would you mind cleaning the fireplace today?” he asked. 

She turned, skeptical. “But, Sir, I cleaned it yesterday. Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he answered, stiff as a stick. 

“Yes, Sir.” And off she went, with him trailing not far behind. 

~❦︎~

Athena dusted the fireplace. The flames encased her petite figure, so all Sir Claudius had to gaze upon was a black silhouette. But a figure nonetheless. He would look at her, then she would find his gaze, and he would go straight back to journaling—but soon the cycle would start all over again.

“Sir Claudius,” the girl called, dusting the top of the panel. 

“Yes, Athena?”

She turned and looked into his eyes, stern as a hawk. “When I read your advertisement, it stated that I would not only be your housekeeper but your apprentice. Yet, thus far you have not mentioned anything of the sort. Is there a reason for this?” 

He sunk deeper into his chair, propped one leg on top of the other, and bit the end of his fountain pen. “Ah… yes, Miss Everleigh. I—simply did not think you would be interested in the work. I have never had a woman as my apprentice before.”

Athena stretched her arm out, like a ballerina beginning a pirouette, and dusted the top of the panel in short strokes. She giggled, though kept her eyes on her work, and the apples of her cheeks darkened in the harsh light of the flame. “Well, now that you know I am content with whatever work comes to me, I’m sure you would not mind undertaking me as your apprentice,” she spoke, her voice moving like the streams in the nearby forest. 

“Oh, of course!” He took the pen out of his mouth and forced a grin. “I would be most happy to have you as my apprentice….” 

“Well, then, let’s get started today!” She spun about on her heels, setting down the feather duster, then crouched near him with her hands on her knees.

“Yes, let’s!” He darted his eyes to the nearby settee.

“What would you have me do first?” All of a sudden, she threw her head back in laughter. “Oh, silly me! I haven’t the slightest inclination what it is you’ll be teaching me. Go on then.” 

He brought his eyes back to hers, though lagging, and watched her for a moment. “My dear, you’re so eager. I… Come, I will show you.” He arose and stretched before pacing off to the lower portions of the castle. 

“Oh, of course, Sir Claudius.” The girl picked up her skirts and ran after him. “Where are we going?” she queried, delighted as a kitten upon receiving a bowl of warm milk. Her voice was breathy yet exhilarated. 

“To the dungeons, my dear.”

“Ooh… the dungeons! I’ve never been there before.”

He chuckled. “Well, I’ve never taken you this far into the castle before.” 

The walls began to look even more ancient—the familiar stone blocks with straight edges faded away, and instead large cobblestones began to line the walls. There were many circular ones all together, with chips and ware on the edges, and some sort of old gray paste held them in place. Athena inhaled the must and grime, then sneezed. “Oh, forgive me, Sir Claudius!” she sniveled.

“It is alright, Miss Everleigh. I will admit the dungeons are quite old and have not been cleaned in some time.” 

At one point, no light filtered in from the rest of the castle and the only thing providing any form of lumination was Sir Claudius’s torch. A warm and red circle formed around the man in black. Athena had never looked at his figure so closely before, but the black cloak wrapped nicely about him, hugging his broad shoulders and accentuating his midriff before splashing out at the tail end. She followed the way the cape blew in the wind and noticed its intricate, light brown embroidery. Just like the furniture in the other portions of the castle, the cape’s embroidery was of snakes and flames that circled around one another, entwining like thorns and vines she had found in the thickets. 

“Here we are, Miss Everleigh.” He stood at a doorway, his torch leading inside, but all Athena saw was the black void ahead of her. He took her by the hand and guided her before lighting another torch in the room. “Watch,” he called. “They are all connected.” As the torch lit up, so did the other torches in the large room one by one. They went all around, and eventually began to spiral up and up until reaching a wooden chandelier at the very top. An explosion of light soon sparked from it. “Makes it easy so that I don’t have to light every single one of them,” he spoke, closing his eyes and blowing out the torch in his hand. 

Athena giggled in delight. “Oh, how beautiful!” she yelled, dancing about, looking at all the books and vials and torches and the chandelier and the cabinets and armoires filled with even more liquids and spices. “There is so much, Sir Claudius!”

“Yes, yes, it is quite amazing, isn’t it? I have one of the largest collections out of any… alchemist.”

“Hah!” she gasped. “So that is what you are? You work with chemicals and such?” 

“I suppose you could say that.”

“Oh, I’ve always been so interested in this but I didn’t know where to start, or who to turn to, or what books to read.” She ran to him, jumping up and down. He bobbed his head, watching her. He had never smiled for such an extended period of time. 

“Where do I begin? Show me something! I want to see one of your… alchemy bottles or… just something! I want to see something and understand what it means! Please!!” She ran to him and tugged at his glove.

Sir Claudius dropped his jaw, but otherwise remained standing still. “Miss Everleigh, if you please,” he said, pulling his arm away. 

“Oh, of course. Please forgive my conduct. It’s only that I’ve never seen anything like this before. I’ve only ever seen fish and fishermen and my house and the forest and housework.” 

“I appreciate your curiosity and willingness to learn. You are a fiery one, that is for certain.” Both of their eyes smiled back at one another, until Sir Claudius tore away and went to one of his potions. “I do have a few tricks up my sleeve though.” He smirked.

“So this is no practical science,” she said, smiling. “Magic, is it?”

“Magic, indeed. Here is one _potion_ I made this morning.” His black gloves wrapped around a light blue bottle—he paraded it around the room like a circus magician before his eyes found their way back to her. She was entranced with the blue light emanating off of the bottle. “Are you familiar with púcaí, Miss Everleigh?” 

As soon as he uttered the word, Athena shuddered and her eyes fell away. “Y-yes, Sir. My mother told me stories about them when I was very little. Irish spirits of folklore, aren’t they?”

“Yes, such nasty little varmints.” Athena’s eyes grew wider. “This is meant to be a potion for catching them.” He handed it to her. 

She took it, her fingers shaking. _He is only joking. He is only an alchemist or a scientist or a circus magician_ — _he cannot be a true Master of Potions_ , Athena tried to convince herself. _Masters of Potions have not been in this land for years…._

“Well?”

“It is exquisite, Sir Claudius. A lovely blue. What does it actually do, though?” She laughed. “Besides catching púcaí, that is.” The girl handed the bottle back to him.

“Oh, oh yes, that. Well, I will show you.” 

He tore the top off, and only a matter of seconds after he did, the blue mist shot up into the air, like a windstorm catching speed, and it hovered over both of them. It circled until becoming a cloud the color of Athena’s eyes—after which it landed on her, not Sir Claudius. 

The girl shrieked, covered in the damp mist and residue. Sir Claudius gaped, almost falling over. “You—you are the púca…” he whispered. His eyes did not turn into fire but snow—the same girl who had given him color in his face the past few weeks drained every ounce.

“No one is supposed to know!” She screamed, crying and hyperventilating. “They’ll take it away from me!” she repeated over and over again, almost drowning in the blue liquid. 

“Who will take what away from you?” Sir Claudius questioned, standing still, in shock.

“You are a Master of Potions!” she screamed, fighting him. She threw her arms in the air and pushed him away. “You want my gift for your own! You want to use my ability for your own selfish desires! You tricked me! All along this was a trick! I should have listened to her…” The girl trailed off, her tears seeping into the blue liquid residue. He could not tell what was the liquid and what were her tears after several minutes of crying. “You knew I was a púca all along…” Athena mumbled, holding her chest.

“Miss Everleigh, I swear it, I did not know you were a púca. When… that day we first met, I thought you were one at first when I could not see you very well, but then when I realized you were human, I stopped immediately.” She dared not look into his eyes again, those cold, lying eyes. 

“How are you alive and yet a púca at the same time? You are not a spirit by any means…”

She sniffled then wiped her nose with her sleeve. “You swear it, you’re not after my gift?”

“I swear, by all the spirits of the earth, I swear,” he said with a more reassuring tone.

She began to cry again. “No one is supposed to know. No man must know!” she yelled, burying her face in the hem of her dress and heaving. 

“Would it help to know that I am not a man?”

“What?” She lifted her head, sobbing.

“Indeed, Miss Everleigh, I am not a man. A Master of Potions, yes, and I can appear as a man at certain times, but I was not born one.”

“Then, what are you?” she asked. 

“I am a dragon.”


	11. Chapter X - Two Secret Lives Discovered

“So, does it make you feel better knowing that I am a creature who has lived for hundreds upon hundreds of years?”

Athena blew her nose into the pile of towels and handkerchiefs. There were so many, gathered by Sir Claudius from all about the castle, that one could have mistaken it for a pile of snow. “I don’t know…” she spoke, barely moving her pink pruned lips.

“Well, you must know I am— _friends_ with the benevolent púcaí,” he uttered, handing her another towel. “At first, I thought you were one of the nastier púcaí, Miss Everleigh. They’ve pestered me all throughout the ages: knocking over vials, scattering my books and papers, spilling my ink—” 

“Is that why your—” Athena gaped, catching a moment of his eyes, before covering her face with the towel. “Your eyes, Sir Claudius?”

“Yes! I have the ability to eliminate spirits—one of the perks of being a dragon.” He smiled, his pointed teeth glittering in the red and gold firelight. 

Athena burrowed into the towel. 

Sir Claudius faltered, his jaw dropping and his hands flying behind him. “But, of course, I stopped, as soon as I realized you were human.” A hesitant smile shot straight up on his face again—he cocked his head to the side and a few teeth glinted out of the right side of his mouth. 

Athena slid the towel down along her pink face—and Sir Claudius became just as entranced as a bug to a ball of flame in the dark of night. Her eyes were as blue as the heart of a flame, her cheeks just as red and rosy as the part encircling the heart, and her forehead and neck as pale as a flame’s flowery edges. 

“Do forgive me, Sir Claudius,” she whispered, not rising above the hushed meows of a kitten. “No one has ever known about my… gift… besides my mother. I fear it will be taken away from me….”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, lass!” he called, kneeling at her side. “I’ll put in a good word for you. Remember, they're my friends!” He chuckled, glowing red in the cheeks.

“Of course,” Athena cooed. She then sighed deeply, her breath sinking into the towel. “I suppose you’re right, Sir Claudius. There is no need to fret now. What’s done is done.” She dropped the towel on the ground, rose, and glanced around the room. “I will clean all of this—”

“Oh, allow me!” Sir Claudius stopped her from walking any further. “I gathered the towels and handkerchiefs, after all. I’ll take them to the laundry room and you can take care of them later.”

“Are you certain?” She lifted a brow.

“Yes, it’s the least I can do.”

Athena sat back down in the chair, after being prompted by Sir Claudius. The pile was almost to his knee, but he scooped them all up in one swift motion, then bounced them in his arms like a newborn baby, proving to Athena he could handle the load. She grinned. 

Upon his return, Athena spoke: “I suppose you want to know how I received this gift?” 

“More or less.” He chuckled, bringing a gloved hand to his mouth. “I’ve never met a _live_ púca before!”

“Well, as far as I know, I’m the only one.” She brushed her hands across her pale blue, almost faded silver, skirts—the color of the moon’s reflection in murky water. “My mother was always kind and generous to the land and its creatures. She cared for the animals of the forest if they grew to be sick. She trimmed trees if their branches grew to be too long. She also spoke to the púcaí somehow… She does not talk about it much, but I know she communicates with them. And, once she married my father and knew she was with child, the púcaí granted her a gift. Her firstborn child would have the powers of the púcaí when she came of age. So, when I turned fifteen, I chose my animal—a cat, obviously—and I can transform into Milly whenever I please!”

“Milly?”

“Oh, it’s what the townspeople call me in cat form. I used to…”

He leaned in. “What?”

Athena’s cheeks flushed, ripe as strawberries in spring. “I... used to visit the taverns there, quite often, as a cat. That’s actually how I found your advertisement.”

“So it was!” He slapped the palms of his hands on his knees in delight.  
“Otherwise,” she covered her lips, “I wouldn’t have been allowed in there.”

“How very naughty of you!” He bellowed at first, before noticing how her eyes had fallen away from his. “Do forgive me, Miss Everleigh. It was improper of me to insinuate that… um….”

“It is alright, Sir Claudius.” She popped up again. “I live two lives after all. And you know about the other one now.”

“So I do.” Their eyes met, silver interlocking with silver.

“Would you—care to learn about my other life… Milly?”

“Why, of course… Sir Dragon.” 

~❦︎~❦︎~

End of **_Part I - The Everleighs_**


	12. Part II - The Curse of the Clan

Sir Claudius had always found humans rather charming, so much so he asked the Dragon Patriarch of his clan to become one and live amongst them—much to his family’s scorn. It was not uncommon for dragons to turn into other beings by using powerful potions and spells or to move in with other cultures, but there were always stipulations: Sir Claudius’s being that he would only have the ability to be a human half of the time. By day, a man. By night, a dragon. And so he left his home cave and traveled across Ireland, bearing plenty of gold, until he settled down in a village near Dublin.

Dragons did not have as complex a language as humans, so that was the first trial the young man had to overcome. His human brain was of course designed for grammar and syntax, but venturing to towns and learning from people often led to much confusion. A teenage boy with the brain of a toddler. 

Even more confusing, Sir Claudius did not seem to age—at least, not at the rate of humans. Generations passed, and he remained as youthful-looking as ever. Eventually, he had become well-cultured and knowledgeable in the arts and history of humans. He knew every tale, myth, painting, fashion, and so on that Dublin had to offer, as he visited the local libraries, museums, and playhouses often. 

But he would stay home at night, and no one saw the dragon meant to induce fear in the heart of man. That was his clan’s role—to strike fear in hearts and strike fire in forests. Fear kept man in his place and fire allowed the trees to grow. 

It was tradition for dragons, even if they moved out of their clan, to continue their roles. If they did not fulfill their birth clan’s duties, it would lead to certain death. In dragon culture, there were many ways to die honorably—the most honorable was being struck by a knight while protecting their clan’s castle or cave. But, the most disgraceful death of all dragon clans was turning to stone. 

If a dragon turned to stone, this meant that he had not fulfilled his duties properly. No dragon alive knew the origin of this disgraceful death—this stone disease that rose from the tip of the tail all the way to the teeth—but all dragons knew it existed. No dragon was a true dragon unless his duties were fulfilled. Otherwise, he was as useful as a statue made of stone, lifeless and dull.

Sir Claudius had lost touch with his dragon self. He spent all day in Dublin, reading and writing and, eventually, gaining money for the tales he told. He used the money to build his castle, so that he would not have to live in a cave any longer. There were of course dungeons in the lower portions, however, for him to sleep in. No one suspected a thing. 

But one night as he slept soundly, he felt a tingle in his tail. He brushed it off until the next morning he found he was not able to turn back into a human. Glancing back at his throbbing tail, he noticed it was beginning to turn silver at the tip. 

He pondered and pondered for hours, as the people in the town were waiting on him to come and tell tales. He could not die now. He had to ask for help.

He picked himself up, exited the lower portions of the castle, and galloped to the forest. He set as many fires as possible, but still it was not enough. Sweat trickled down his scaly head. He would have to do something he had always dreaded—scaring a human.

Sir Claudius dragged his tail to the small nearby town, staying on the outskirts. He wished to speak his heart, to tell the stories of his clan and see the peoples’ faces ignite in wonder. If only dragons and humans could live in harmony, or at the very least be companions, like cats and humans. But he was cursed. The Dragon Patriarch hadn’t given Sir Claudius a unique gift, as he thought when he was young. Instead, he had cursed him with the ability to half-way be human. There was no escape from his dragon-self. 

As he sat in the forest, waiting for his eventual demise, a traveler passed by. It was an older man—he shrieked and threw down all his bearings upon seeing Sir Claudius, running back to town. 

The stone on his tail disappeared, healing in an instant. He then became a man once more, bathed in sunlight.

Sir Claudius sighed. 

But from his depressive state arose a new idea. Perhaps he did not have to strike fear in the hearts of everyone by exposing himself—perhaps he only had to make forest fires, then have someone strike fear for him. 

Thus, every few years or so, he hired an apprentice. The apprentice would clean his castle for him, make him food, travel to town for errands, master the art of potions under his teaching, and frighten the local village with the tales of the dragon. Sometimes Sir Claudius would accompany him, telling tales alongside his apprentice. But, no apprentice ever stayed throughout the night. No apprentice, no one in the town, nobody, knew he was the dragon causing forest fires. Sometimes people in the forest caught a glimpse of him, screaming and running away. But no one ever guessed that Sir Claudius of Beochaineadh Castle—easily becoming the most famous storyteller in all of Dublin—was a dragon.

It was only when his apprentices began to grow old and he remained a young man did anyone become suspicious. Other tales arose about the Elixir of Life that Sir Claudius supposedly obtained—instead of the typical tales about dragons that ran rampant in the town. He did not want to, but knew he would have to stop visiting town. So, he did, and people eventually stopped speaking of him. He asked for his apprentices to stop telling so many tales about dragons, and to not believe or spread the tales about an Elixir of Youth. 

The stories died down and Beochaineadh Castle became more of a mystery than it had been before. He started having apprentices for longer periods of time, making closer acquaintances with them. They learned some of his secrets, but never about his dragon-self. He asked them to stop the spread of tales about the Elixir of Youth, and they did. 

Years passed, and people stopped caring so much. Of course fears and stories arose about the man of Beocheanaidh Castle, but no one ever dared to go there except for the apprentices. And the apprentices assured that there were no Elixirs of Life to be found—Sir Claudius had aged and died already and now his son with the same name owned the castle. Of course, anyone would lie such a lie when given enough gold. And anyone would believe such a lie from someone with enough gold.

The apprentices hailing from Beochaineadh Castle soon became known for their wealth. After one’s death, other townspeople would flock to the castle and apply for the position—but Sir Claudius only accepted one person who needed the gold the most. No one with money ever left with money. The chosen ones would then gain the knowledge of the potions and, more importantly, gold. 

For hundreds of years, apprentices came one right after another. But nearing the “turn of the century”, as the people of Dublin began saying, for one reason or another, the apprenticeships ceased. Twenty years passed, and Sir Claudius remained silent, bereft of an apprentice to voice his tales. But, in 1905, Athena Everleigh became his only hope. 


	13. Chapter XI - A Gift for the Ages

“So, what did you tell the apprentices when they noticed you never aged?” Athena questioned, balancing her chin on her knuckles.

“I… told them I had an Elixir of Youth.”

“And they believed you?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“Do _you_ believe me?” He grinned.

“Well, no!” The girl laughed, almost falling back onto the settee. “But that is because I know your secret! Dragons don’t age.”

“It’s not that they don’t age, Athena. It’s that we don’t age as fast as humans.”

“Whatever it is you say.” She giggled, flipping her hair around to the front and tugging on it. 

Sir Claudius allowed a few teeth to sparkle in the pale light. “You know, Athena, in dragon years, I am of good age.”

“What do you mean by that?” 

“It means I am not too young—not a young lad, annoying and naive. But I am neither too old—an old man, senile and weak. In human years, I estimate I am between twenty-five and thirty-five. In dragon language… It is called… Oh, it is hard to translate.”

“Well, you could always lie to me and I wouldn’t know the difference.” Athena glistened, her skin like the foam of waves touching the shore, her teeth like the glimmer of moonlight in the still ocean water—on easy nights when there was no tide. Her voice reminded Sir Claudius of the tune of waves hitting the shore, soothing him just enough so that he could rest—even on late nights when every ounce of him fought against sleep—when his nightmares reminded him of—

“Sir Claudius?”

“Yes, Athena?”

“The translation?” She leaned forward.

“Oh, yes, the translation! Uhm… I believe the word would be something along the lines of ‘ready for eating’ or ‘plump’. Dragons are carnivores so that is why we use that terminology. In more human terms, the word would be ‘ripe’.”

“‘Ripe’...” she repeated, wondering if she had heard the word correctly. “Ripe for what? Ripe for a-pickin’?” She covered her lips with her hand, giggling.

Sir Claudius sank deeper into his chair across from her. “I suppose you could say that. Again, the translation is difficult. Dragon language is very different from human language—”

“In what ways?” Her eyes tore into him.

“Well… there are many ways…. You—you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve never conversed with another human about this before.”

“Not even your other apprentices?”

“No, because they did not know I was a dra—”

“Oh, that’s right!” She lightly ran her fingers through her hair. “Silly me! They did not know you were a dragon! Carry on.”

“Yes, of course.” He scratched his scruffy chin, and a shrill sound echoed throughout the room from his nails striking the thick, coarse hairs. “Well, for one, it is much more simple. Although we have multiple sounds—growls, roars, shrieks, deep bellows, low-pitched noises no human can hear—we still have no amount of variety of words that humans have. We have specific ‘calls’ for each dragon—almost like a name. We have certain growls and deep rumbles for each object we encounter—fire, tree, lake. But dragons don’t necessarily think in… abstract ways. We don’t ever think of how the stars made it up in the sky, or about writing down all the stories we have, or about love—”

“You mean dragons don’t love each other?!” Athena shrieked. Her mouth hung agape. 

Sir Claudius sat still, not moving a muscle, not breathing. Trickles of sweat poured down his face.

“N—not in the way in which humans… love one another.” He reached for a handkerchief, patting his head. 

“Oh…” She sat back down, her eyes flying towards her skirts. She ruffled them then played with her hair. 

“What is wrong, Athena?”

“It’s just that—that… it must be awful for there to be no love amongst your kind. What a pity.” 

“Oh, Athena, you misunderstood me. We still care for and look after one another. After all, we do live in clans. We must protect each other or else we would die…. It’s only that, for dragons, we don’t write poems for our… _mates_ , we don’t serenade them, or… kiss….”

She balled up her skirts in her fists. “Well, I suppose that’s alright. At least you care for one another….” 

“Athena…”

“Yes?” 

“Why do you think I wanted to become a human?”

She lifted her eyes, shooting straight towards him. “I remember you said you found us charming.” The girl pouted no longer.

“Indeed I did.” He chuckled. “If only I were a human all of the time….” 

“Couldn’t you concoct a potion that would allow you to become fully human?”

“I’m afraid not, Athena. For the patriarch of my clan was much older and more powerful than me, by all means. The— _curse_ he placed upon me can never be undone. At least, not for many, many years and many, many trials and errors. You and your children and even your grandchildren would be long gone by the time I found a way to undo this curse.” 

“I see.” 

“Is there anything else you would like to know? It could be about dragon language and customs, or _me_ ….”

“Yes, I do, Sir Claudius.” She raised up, arching her shoulders. “Why is it that there were no apprentices for many years before me? You said you had a constant strain of them for hundreds of years. What happened—”

“Enough.” 

Sir Claudius’s eyes turned searing red, and his pupil became a popping blue. Sparks of flame burst out of his tear ducts. The girl thought she saw ashes falling to the ground. 

Miss Everleigh reared back. Her shoulders fell and her body slid into the settee. 

“You must know as my apprentice and housekeeper, Miss Everleigh, that there are certain things which are not to be spoken about within these castle walls. Is that understood?”

She bowed her head and crossed her feet. Her skin melted from the scorching heat.

“Yes, Sir.” 

She rose from the settee and dragged her feet along the floor, all the way to the supply closet. 

~❦︎~

Miss Everleigh snatched a few glimpses of Sir Claudius from a distance. He perched in his chair, one long leg over the other, engrossed in his book. His eyes darted across the pages—he turned one after another, minute by minute. She looked at the fine lines on his mouth, deciding whether they were lines of excitement and engagement due to the book, or lines of anger because of her. She would have been able to tell if only his eyes met hers. 

The girl dusted then plumped the pillows on the furniture. Sir Claudius remained latched onto the book. She plumped the pillows harder, small booms echoing throughout the castle. 

“Now Miss Everleigh,” he spoke, not lifting his eyes, “I’d rather you not have to clean up any feathers that come out of those pillows.”

“Of course, Sir.” She laid the pillow down. 

The girl traversed over to the edge of the fireplace, where her broomstick leaned against it. She took it by the handle, then faced Sir Claudius, who might as well have been nailed to his book. She released the handle from her fingers, and the broom fell straight to the ground. 

Sir Claudius bolted up, staring Miss Everleigh down; the girl studied his eyes. 

“I apologize, Sir. It slipped out of my hand.” 

“Slipped out of your hand, you say?” She nodded. “Very well then.” He went back to his reading and she stood stiff and straight. The girl then balled her skirts up in her fists and gritted her teeth. She stamped her foot on the ground, picked up the broom—not sweeping gently at all—and laid her eyes on the floor.

Sir Claudius kept his head low, but arched his brows and watched her movements. She had her back turned to him, her curls bouncing with each swivel of the broom. The man huffed, a dream of a laugh releasing from his nostrils. 

“Miss Everleigh, if you want my attention that badly, you could at the very least make conversation with me.”

Athena groped the handle of the broom, digging her nails into its softened wood. 

“Who said I wanted your attention, Sir Claudius?” asked her curls.

“Why, you did, Miss Everleigh.”

The girl spun around, planted her feet, and dug her knuckles into her hips. “I said no such thing!” Athena flared her pink nostrils and stuck out her bottom lip. If Sir Claudius had been any closer, he might have heard tumultuous ocean waves cascading in her eyes. 

Announcing the champion of the battle, the newly-repaired Grandfather Clock rang. Both Sir Claudius and Athena looked to check the time, then turned to face one another—Athena pouting like a toddler and Sir Claudius grinning like a gull after having caught his dinner. 

“Before you leave, I have something for you, my darling Miss Everleigh.” 

“And what would that be?” She crossed her arms, broom still in hand. 

Sir Claudius put down his book, shut it, and trotted over to the fireplace. Athena furrowed her brows, following close behind. 

The man returned with a satchel. “Happy birthday.”

Athena’s eyes ran rampant, going back-and-forth between the satchel and Sir Claudius. “Well, thank you!” She put down the broom and reached for the brown bag. 

“Ah, ah, ah!” He pulled it away from her and shook a finger in her face. “I want you to open this with your father.”

“My father?” she retorted. 

“Yes, open it together, or else the gift will be spoiled.” 

“Fine. May I have it now?”

“Hasty, hasty Miss Everleigh.” He clicked his tongue, then dropped the satchel at her feet. “I do hope you enjoy it.” He turned around. “I will be retiring for the evening. Once you finish putting your supplies away, you may leave.”

“Thank you, Sir Claudius,” she spoke, picking the satchel up by the strap. 

“Of course, Miss Everleigh.” 

She took hold of the broom handle, walking with it to the supply closet.  
“Oh, Miss Everleigh!” he called.

“Yes?”.

“Everything I’ve said today… they areour little secrets, yes?” 

“Yes.” She tugged at her curls behind her ears, smiling at the man for a moment, before he slipped away for the evening and she headed to the lower portions of the castle.


	14. Chapter XII - Mama Bird

Sir Claudius reached out for the blanket, but the tips of his fingers met cold cobblestone instead. He groaned. 

Turning over, the hard rocks shifted beneath him, swaddling him up and stealing all the warmth from his body—like a snake swaddling a newborn baby. 

The man sat up, then stood on his wobbly feet. The last dying embers of the fire were his only sources of light and heat. He waddled over to the fireplace and held out his pale, bare hands. 

His clothes laid on his frozen toes. They were folded rather shoddily. He picked them up and began putting the layers on one by one, covering his silvery, almost scaly, body with black garments. When finished, he slipped on his signature pair of black gloves. 

Breathing in and out, he spoke: “Human again,” then smiled.

Taking a torch from the wall and leaning down toward the dying fire, Sir Claudius hummed to himself. He turned the torch over and over, roasting the end of the stick until it caught aflame. He blew on it several times, each release of air causing the flame to grow larger. After the torch grew to be full and a luminous ball encircled him, he stamped his boots on the remaining embers from the previous night. 

The man traveled out of the dungeons then passed by his room of potions. Typically, once he awoke as a human—when the sun climbed over the ocean and struck the cliffs and castle walls—he would go to his Master bedroom and commence resting. But, the man neither yawned nor rubbed his eyes. Rather, he hummed one of Athena Everleigh’s songs. She never quite sang in tune, but her voice was beautiful nonetheless—a baby bird learning how to chirp. 

_I only hope I didn’t make her_ too _uncomfortable… I want to hear her sing again…._

Sir Claudius lit the fireplace of the Grand Hall, then sat down in his chair. He picked up his book from the table, the one he had shut the night before, and continued reading. The fireplace crackled away while he hummed the sweet tune of Athena. Athena Everleigh. Miss Everleigh. Athena. Athena. 

“Athena…” he whispered. “She knows I’m a dragon.” He touched his cheek. “And she… _understands_ that I’m a dragon.” He set the book down in his lap and turned his head up toward the ceiling. He slid his arms to the back of his neck, then propped his legs up on the table. “She knows I’m a dragon. Miss Athena Everleigh knows I’m a dragon.” He chortled, and the book slipped off his lap. 

But the sound of the book slapping the floor was not what startled him that early morning before the birds had even arisen. Four knocks sounded at the door, each one slightly apart from the next—not urgent and rushed like Athena’s knocks.

Sir Claudius launched from his chair—he stood straight and tall, hovering over the fireplace. The man squinted, grabbed hold of his torch, and snuck on the balls of his feet to the main entrance. 

The four knocks sounded again. 

Sir Claudius glanced at the Grandfather Clock: 6 a.m. 

He went, faster this time, until reaching the grand doors. Sniffing through the tiny cracks, he shook his head, not recognizing the scent. 

The man placed his hands on the door handle, prying it open. Light filtered in through the castle; he squinted.

“Good morning, Sir,” a velvet voice greeted.

“Good… mo—morning,” he stuttered. Even at 6 a.m., the early morning rays were too much to handle.

“Are you or are you not Sir Claudius?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Are you or are you not Sir Claudius?” 

The man opened his eyes and standing before him—a basket on her arms, the morning rays encasing her frame, her brunette hair flowing in the breeze—was a woman he had never met before… perchance in a dream.

“I… Yes, I am Sir Claudius.” He bowed, his matted locks falling over his shoulders. “To what—”

“Good,” the woman spoke in Irish Gaelic all of a sudden. “You might remember me by the name of Isolde Byrne.” 

Sir Claudius gasped, staring the woman directly in the eyes. He then turned on his heels, latching onto the door, although not closing it. Vomit almost spewed out of his mouth before he swallowed. 

“Sir… I understand this is rather traumatic, but I need to discuss a serious matter with you. It does not have anything to do with the events of twenty years ago.” 

“You swear it?” he whispered, his eyes becoming the color of liquid gold, melting off of his face.

“I swear it.”

“Why then are you here, Mrs. Byrne?”

“I am now known as Mrs. Charles Everleigh.”

Silence echoed throughout the halls. 

Sir Claudius stopped breathing, but his heart beat as if he were sprinting—sprinting to release himself from the madness, of the madness of twenty years, of the madness of cobblestone, of the madness of cascading waves beating against cliffs, knowing all along he could not go back and repair the events of twenty years ago, that he was destined to die knowing he would never be able to—

“Athena. Athena Everleigh is your daughter.”

“Yes, Sir Claudius. She is my daughter.”

~❦︎~

Mrs. Everleigh sifted through the cabinets of the castle kitchens until her fingers reached the black tea kettle. “I can tell my Athena has sorted these. She always sorts the bowls and cups tallest to shortest.”

“Really? I—I hadn’t noticed…” Sir Claudius called from the kitchen table, squeezing a cup between his palms. 

Pulling the tea kettle out of the cabinet, Mrs. Everleigh lit a fire over the stove, poured water into the kettle, and set it over the flame. She then glanced over her shoulder. The man stared at the wall across from his seat. She sighed. 

Only a minute or two later, the tea kettle whistled—Sir Claudius nearly jumped out of his seat. Mrs. Everleigh pulled the kettle off the stove and traveled to the kitchen table. She motioned for Sir Claudius to give her his cup several times. The woman soon gave up and poured the flaming water into the cup locked in his grasp. The woman poured her own after that, taking several sips once it cooled.

“How is the tea, Mrs. Everleigh?”

She closed her eyes, feeling the hot herbs and spices tingle her throat. “Delightful, Sir.”

“I’m glad. Your daughter picked them while running errands last week.”

“I figured. She often asks for this kind of tea, although we never have the money to afford such delicacies.”

“Well, now you do.” He rubbed his thumbs over the cup handle.

Mrs. Everleigh sat her tea down. “Sir Claudius… I appreciate your generosity toward my Athena and our family, but I do not want the lass to be spoiled.”

“If I may, she is the most unspoiled lass I have ever encountered.”

“And how many lasses have you encountered, Sir Claudius?” 

The man’s eyes fell from the wall and into the teacup—as if he were drowning in the circling herbs and spices. 

“She is my daughter, Sir Claudius, and I know what is best for her. Generally, I would ask that this ‘housework’ cease immediately. But,” her eyes fell, “the púcaí have spoken.”

Sir Claudius knitted his brows and lifted his chin, reading Mrs. Everleigh’s face. “The púcaí?”

“Yes. Last night, when Athena opened her present with her father, the two of them attempted to hide it from me. But while Athena was cleaning up after supper, I found the satchel with the book and read it. Although your name was nowhere to be found, your markings were all over it. Your handwriting. Your unmistakable language. Your words so elegantly and delicately chosen. No one in this land can translate like you can, Sir Claudius. No one in this land can _write_ as you can. I suppose… it surprised me because I thought she was telling me the truth all along…. The púcaí never said a word about Athena working for you—which is understandable because I am not meant to know all the púcaí know. I am _grateful_ I do not know all the púcaí know…. But, I thought… she was truly becoming a benevolent daughter, who would never lie or hide secrets from her mother…. I wanted to confront her about it late last night, but I sought counsel from the púcaí instead. And…” Her bloodshot eyes searched Sir Claudius, scouring over his frame. “The púcaí told me they had a plan for you and Athena.”

Sir Claudius’s eyes caught aflame, as the fire spread all the way from his heart straight to his head. The flames roared around in his stomach, too, and licked his chest and tingled his ribcage. He felt them pounding against his brain—every nerve in his body lit up like small sticks and roots on fire. Mrs. Everleigh reared back, though only out of shock and not fear. He knew what human fear looked like and this was not it. He had seen fear far too many times in their eyes. 

“Excuse me, Mrs. Everleigh. It’s the dragon in me.”

“I can see that,” she said, gripping onto her chair. 

“A plan? What kind of _plan_?” he questioned, taking sips of the hot tea to douse the flames. 

“I’m not quite sure, Sir Claudius,” spoke Mrs. Everleigh, taking sips of her tea for the opposite reason. 

“Well, what would they have your daughter and I… do?” His eyes were the most intent and focused she had seen them.

“They want her to continue working here—no immediate changes.” Sir Claudius settled, sitting back in the chair and gulping down his tea.

“But I am not the púcaí,” Mrs. Everleigh retorted, eyes almost the same color as his. The man clenched his cup once more. “You will not treat my daughter with any more or less respect than any other human being. Just because she is a púca, that does not mean she is your toy or experiment. She will not be your pet that you give money and presents to. Neither will she be your creature to dissect. I know what money and power do to people, Sir Claudius, and I will not have my daughter become a malevolent púcaí for all eternity because of _you_. Is that understood?” the woman asked with a tone as sharp as the talons of a hawk.

Sir Claudius ran circles with his fingers around his cup. 

_Yes, Mrs. Ever_ —

“What makes you believe that I would ever treat your daughter with such a lack of respect?” 

Mrs. Everleigh twisted her neck to face him, eyes narrow and pointed like a taloned bird. Her brunette hair framed her heart-shaped face. “Well, naturally, Sir Claudius, I expected anyone would take my daughter’s gift and use it to his or her advantage, yet at her disposal. You are merely the first person to ever know about her.”

“Why would I want _her_ gift? I have a gift already! And on top of that—gold, potions, a castle, fine china, the whole lot of it!”

“Then you would spoil her!”

“Why would I spoil her?!”

“Because she is young and naïve! She doesn’t know about the world! You will use her for your admiration and attention, if nothing else.”

Sir Claudius broke apart. All the flames that had been rising died at once. He hung his head.

“There. That is all you ever wanted. A fresh face to look at,” the woman spoke, preying on his silence. She sat back in her chair, rustling her feathers, and sipping her tea. 

Sir Claudius held his cup between his knees. His black locks covered his twisted, tormented face. “What would you have me do, Mrs. Everleigh?” he asked in a battered, bruised voice.

“Do not tell Athena of what has occurred. She doesn't know I have read your book, nor does she know I visited this morning, understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I don’t know that she works here, correct?”

“Correct, Mrs. Everleigh.” 

“Very well then. We are finished here.” She left without another word—her teacup on the table, half-empty.


	15. Chapter XIII - Roses are Red, Thorns are Green

Sir Claudius slumped in the chair, his palm open and his fingers round so as to hold a teacup. But he grasped only air. His mouth hung open as if to drink from the cup. But all he drank was air. 

The teacup faced down on the carpet beneath the table. 

The Grandfather Clock struck 10 a.m., billowing throughout the castle on waves of air. Seconds ticked away inside of him—each beat of his heart equaled one, and the opening and closing of his lung flaps equaled two. 

Many years before, in the cave of his ancestors, Sir Claudius’s family told him of “overburn”. Too much fire in a forest, all at once. It took years for the forest to replenish itself, which was not the goal of their clan. Trees fell down, leaves and seeds extinguished, and the blue sky remained lost above the hanging mists. No flora or fauna could survive in such wreckage, which was why their clan planned fires on days when the rain came. 

No rain came for Sir Claudius on that electrifying blue morning, wherein hawk eyes flashed and hawk talons shocked their prey—immobile, not able to shriek in the midst of storms caused by heat, without sprinkles of rain and soothing, sheltering clouds. 

For years, he never once had rain. No rain had ever slapped the stone hanging above his castle. No rain ever trickled down the sides, seeping in through windows and traveling along the panes and scooting in between the cracks. It never reached him, never calmed his burning heart, full of stories and affection and ferocity.

But this time his fire became too great. It consumed his body, mind, and soul, singeing his clothes and snipping at his locks of hair. Too many days and nights he thought of Athena and thought of a rose at the same time. Framed so delicately and yet so boldly-colored. He thought of her soft words, petals falling from her pink lips and into his palm, and then her harsh words, thorns pricking his glove as he tried to pick her. Sometimes she was a serene riverbed with moss dangling below its bank, or a morning dewdrop on a rose, or a kitten lapping its tongue over a brook. Other times she was a whip of thorns, piercing his skin. But whether wet roses or whips, Sir Claudius remained thirsty. Too thirsty. 

“That woman… She couldn’t have been more right.” 

~❦︎~

After thirty more minutes of watching the air move, Sir Claudius arose. 10:30 a.m. He slid up the winding stairs, leading to his Master bedroom, when, glancing out of the indentation in stone—a slight window—his eyes caught movement. A young woman was out in his gardens. 

“Athena…”

The man rushed down the stairs, almost tripping on the final one, and flew all the way to the main entry doors. He yanked them apart, and the sun tore into his eyes. One hand went up, then the other, a shadow falling over his alabaster skin. He then slid his dark hood over his head. One foot in front of the other. He had not heard the sound of his feet shifting over pebbles in so long…. 

“Miss Everleigh!” Sir Claudius called, echoing over the small hill and spreading out into the gardens.

“I’m over here, Sir!” she replied. He followed her sound.

“Miss Everleigh, I did not ask you to tend to my gardens,” he spoke, his eyes trailing over her tools and the fallen flowers she had snipped. Everything was covered in white, like fresh snow—reflecting the glinting sun. 

“I know, Sir. But, you did not answer the door at 9 when I arrived… and they were locked. I did not know what else to do, so I went to that small barn over there, took hold of the tools, and began weeding.”

“Oh…” His eyes moved to the tips of his black boots, white now. “I apologize, Miss Everleigh. Please continue with your gardening.” He turned, dragging his feet back to the main entrance.

“Wait!” Athena shouted, gripping the shovel in her hand, rising. “Come back.” She then sat down in the same spot. The bottom of her pale pink dress—the color of the first rays of dawn—spread out across the pebbles like water, covering each crevice and crack.

Sir Claudius frowned, yanking the top of his hood over his eyes. He trodded on over.

“Sir, I must confess something,” she spoke as he arrived.

The man almost began to run at the words but stopped in his tracks instead. “Co—confess?”  
“Yes.”

“Confess what?”

“I—I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

His head fell away from her figure.

“I have greatly enjoyed working here. It has been wonderful for my family, as I have been able to provide plenty of meals. We are starving no longer.” 

_Gold is the only reason you enjoyed working here? Nothing more?_

“But, I… am afraid.”

“Afraid? What on earth have you to be afraid of?!” His voice rose.

“I’m sorry, Sir Claudius,” she whispered, tilling the ground.

“Is this about your mother? Did your mother…” He trailed off, then began walking backward, unknowingly retracing his steps.

“Did my mother… what?” Athena batted her eyes, like a young bird attempting to escape from a cage.

Sir Claudius tightened the cloak about his shoulders, then stared the young girl down. “Did your mother find out about your being here?”

“No, Sir… Not yet.”

He sighed, hot breath mixing with the steam of the skies.

“But… I am afraid that she _will_ find out. And more than that—that _other_ people will find out.”

“Miss Everleigh, I am in contact with no one else except you. You are the first person I’ve talked to face-to-face in over twenty years.”

“Sir Claudius—I am not meaning to be disrespectful in any way—but I have known you for hardly a month now. I do not know if I can trust you just yet. These are the thoughts that have been whirling through my brain for the last day or two! No one else knows I am a púca, save for you and my mother! I’m not so much worried about my abilities being taken away by the benevolent púcaí now as I am the villagers finding out that I have powers.”

Sir Claudius lowered his head again, breathing flame, in-and-out.

“On top of that, I only just learned that you are a _dragon_! Now I must keep _your_ secret, too! And frankly, I’m losing the capacity for the number of secrets that flutter about in my head all day!” She dropped the shovel and crossed her arms. “I am not angry, Sir Claudius, just—upset… I told you several days ago I was ill with pretending! Ill with secrets and lies! I want to be through with it all, but I can’t now. Not with the knowledge that you are a dragon and I am a púca…” Tears welled up in her eyes, like the tide rising at noon and midnight. 

“Miss Everleigh, I am sincerely sorry… I did not know that you had such conflicting feelings about working here.”

“It wasn’t evident all along? I said I hated to pretend, and yet I was pretending the entire time!”

“Are you pretending now?”

She wiped a tear away and sniffled. “I’m not sure anymore. I feel as though I’ve forgotten who I really am. Or if I ever was anyone at all.”

“I feel the same way sometimes…” He knelt on the ground, stooping to her height.

“You?! Oh, stop that blabber!” She wiped her nose on her sleeve, turning her cheek to him.

“Whatever do you mean, Miss Everleigh?” he asked. “I have lived in isolation for longer than you have been alive… What did you expect?”

“But how _can_ you?” She shook her head, eyes wide and watery. “You write so beautifully, translate so wonderfully! You have such a marvelous mind that I only wish I could have… I’ve read all of your book—”

“Since yesterday?”

“Oh, I couldn’t put it down, Sir Claudius! I stayed up all night, reading.” She blushed, primping her skirts. Trains of golden honey fell into her freckled face. 

“You are a radiant reader then!” He lifted one of his gloved hands, gesturing to her forehead. 

“Oh, hush!” She pushed his arm down and pursed her lips, dimples seeping into her fair skin. 

He chuckled. They then both grew silent. The wind rustled throughout the bushes. Athena’s hair flowed with the wind, sticking to the rose bushes every now and then. Sir Claudius would pull them out and they would smile at one another for a moment before sifting their fingers through the ground pebbles. Sir Claudius’s locks weighed far too much to flow in the wind, and instead stuck to the back of his cloak. Athena had never seen him bathed in such sunlight before, and his face reminded her of planks of wood, one laid right after another. So tall and lean and arched were his cheekbones—set deep, yet appearing high. The scar across his eye begged for her attention, but she evaded it. 

“Athena?”

“Yes, Sir Claudius?”

“Don’t you think the roses are lovely?”

“I do, but not for the reason you think they are lovely.”

“And for what reason do you think they are lovely?”

“I think roses are lovely not because they are delicate and beautiful, but because they are red.”

“Red?”

“Red is my favorite color, alongside deep greens—the deep green of thorns.”

He sat, astonished, his eyes falling from hers. “I thought that… blue and pink were your favorite colors? Or silver, even! You wear them all the time.”

“No, blue and pink are my mother’s favorite colors. She wants them to be mine, too.”

“Oh… Why red and green then?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll find out one day. Maybe it will be the same day that I realize why I keep coming back here each week, even though it’s dangerous.”

“I thought it was for the gold.”

“It is… but, that is not the only reason. I’m just not sure what the reason is yet.”

“Well, when you find out, I’d love it if you would let me know.” He grinned. 

She looked back at him, and the roses of her cheeks blossomed. “Of course, Sir.”


	16. Chapter XIV - Aunt Helena

_Athena watched from a distance, her eyes following the other children as they chased after one another with sticks. Two girls in beige skirts and shoes ran by her_ — _they turned their heads for a moment, catching a glimpse before giggling and playing once more._

_Carts and buggies passed by after the girls, and the horses neighed at her. She winked._

_Three schoolboys came by after that, sticks in hand. They approached Athena. Her smile fell._

_“Aye, whatcha doin’?” the taller one asked, his auburn hair covered in dirt specks._

_“Notin’,” Athena replied, scraping her finger in the dirt._

_He whispered to the other two boys. They stared, impatient as rats in the midst of a cellar._

_“So, are ya da girl dat talks ta animals?”_

_Athena nodded._

_They heaved over in rapturous laughter, holding their thin bellies. As they walked away, Athena stuck out her tongue._

_“Athena! Come here, young miss!”_

_The girl flared her nostrils and tightened her fists. “What is it?” she asked, rising and turning to face a short yet plump woman, who could have been mistaken for a fat, juicy raisin with her layers of dark purple robes covering rolls of fat. When she spoke, spit launched from her dark red mouth, dripping off her rotten teeth and falling to the ground. Detailing the lines around her lips were moles; Athena thought she saw one staring at her, the one with a hair poking out of the middle._

_“I’m in the store for but two minutes and you’re already misbehaving! Why did you stick out your tongue at those young gentlemen?”_

_Athena shrugged, clutching her right arm._

_“Oh, just wait until your father hears about this! Perhaps he will let me teach you a lesson. Young miss, you_ must _learn to behave one of these days_ — _even if you are only ten. I don’t care how old you are, you_ must _act proper. Speak when you’re spoken to! Don’t just sit there and shrug your shoulders and give that glum look to people. I’ll not have my niece acting with such impropriety_ — _”_

~❦︎~

“Athena!”

The girl’s head popped up, her hair flapping like wings alongside her ears. Father stood in the doorway of her bedroom.

“Yes, Father?”

“You have another letter from your Aunt Helena demanding a visit. Shall I write a reply denying the offer?” 

Athena shuddered, her hair falling over her eyes. She took the covers of her bed and wrinkled them up in her hands. “No.”

His eyes doubled in size. “N-no?” the man stammered. “As in ‘no, I won’t go’?”

“As in ‘no, I _will_ go.”

“Athena!” he gasped, shutting the door behind him and rushing to his daughter’s side. He laughed for a moment. “Darling, but you have such a lovely life here,” he gestured to the dank, rotting walls. Cringing, he asked, “What made you change your mind?”

“Perhaps it’s time I did learn to be a lady, Father. I’m sixteen now.”

“But, Athena, aren’t we forgetting something?” He took her hand and began patting it. 

She sighed. “I will ask Sir Claudius if I may visit family in Dublin and see what he says—”

“But your payment has already been docked!”

“Father, you know just as much as I do that we have plenty of gold to last this family for months. Sir Claudius is a generous man.”

He scratched his beard, staring out the window, his eyes following the falling spring flowers.

“Besides, once I go and visit, we won’t have any more bothersome letters from her ever again!” Her pretty teeth glimmered in the sunlight from the window.

“I believe you’re right, daughter, but—” he stammered. “How long do you intend to stay?”

“Until I become a lady.”


	17. Chapter XV - Farewell

Soap bubbles burgeoned out of the tub of water. They flew up into the air, twinkling in the torchlight. All the colors of spring and pastels and rainbows—likely never seen before in the castle—bounced about in the soapy circles. 

Athena wet her rag, drowning it a few times in the tub before picking it back up and rolling it over the floor. The girl sprawled out on her knees, and every minute or so, her hair swooped over her shoulders and landed in the tub. The tips of her honey curls became a drenched dark brown. Each time, she huffed, threw her rag across the floor, pulled her hair to the back, and poked it down into the hem of her dress. Water, soap, and sweat trickled down the inside of her gown, prickling her lower back. She then grabbed her rag and began rolling it over the floor once more.

After several minutes, the girl reared up onto her knees and massaged her lower back. She threw the rag down and dust launched into her nostrils. “Mary an’ Joseph!” she yelled, wiping her nose with her sleeve and staring down the wet rag. “No one likes ye anyway!” 

Cold laughter poured into the hallway from the common room. Athena’s cheeks flushed and her ears pricked. The white hairs on her arms and neck stood as tall as trees. 

“Hollering at the rag, are we?” 

Athena spun around. Leaning on the doorframe of the common room, novel in hand, gloves pulled as tight as possible on his muscular forearms and hands, was Sir Claudius. A grin crept onto his silver snake face. 

“You should let me know when you are _spying_ on me, Sir Claudius.”

His cheeks puffed out, then he leaned back so far in laughter he nearly dropped the book. “ _Spying_?!” 

“Yes!” She gave into laughter as well. “If I hadn’t known you were here, I could have made an even bigger fool of myself!” 

“More than you already did?”

“Of course.” She turned her body to face the withered rag, but her glowing, moonlit eyes remained latched on him. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.” Athena batted her eyelashes.

Sir Claudius gulped, tossing water on the flames roaring inside of him. His rib cage was a massive forest of evergreens, burning down. “I cannot argue with your logic, Miss Everleigh.” He bowed. “I shall forgo my ‘spying’ now.”

“Don’t go!” He lifted his head, hair falling over his forehead and eyes. Athena faltered, crossing her thin, pink arms. “I have to tell you something.”

He straightened. “And what would that be?”

“My Aunt Helena… I don’t believe I’ve spoken to you about her… She has always wanted me to come and spend time with her and her two daughters in Dublin. I have always declined these requests until now….” 

Sir Claudius lifted his brows and bit the insides of his cheek. “For how long?”

“Well, I only planned to go if you allowed me to, Sir. That was the reply my Father sent this morning.”

The man turned away, facing the common room. He pressed one of his palms against the doorframe, and the other fell at his side, still clenching the book. “How long would you like to visit, Miss Everleigh?” he asked—a gruff, broken sound lurching out of his throat.

Athena pinched her curls. “I-I wanted to stay until she felt that I was… a lady. A proper lady. She wants me to enter into society, Sir.”

“Yes, but do _you_ want to enter into society?” 

_If only I could see his eyes…._

“I do, Sir.”

“You lie.” The man spun about, trudging toward the girl—he towered over her and she cowered under him. “I thought you loved this land. You said so yourself! You love your family and want to care for them! You love— You love working here and being with _me_!” The flames in his eyes spread to his sockets, singeing them to pieces. Burnt flesh tore off his face. 

Athena stepped backward, breathing heavily, shoving tears into her eyes, trying not to blink. “Sir, please, I won’t go if you don’t allow it.”

“But you already said so yourself: you _want_ to go. You want all the lovely things this world has to offer. And I know you. You will do anything to get what you want—even lie… lie to _me_.”

“Sir Claudius, I would never—”

“You already have! Don’t act like you didn’t lie to me—”

“It was only to protect my secret!”

“Even so! You lied to your parents!”

“Sir Claudius, I won’t go! I won’t go. I won’t go.” She walked the other way, repeating the words, shaking. She picked up the tub, spilling great slabs of water out as she sped to the supply room. 

The man laid the book on the stone floors, following her. “Miss Everleigh, wait!” He sprinted to the supply room, reaching out for her dress. “Miss Everleigh, I- I… I’ve been such a fool!” He held her skirts in his hand, his face tearing apart, his mouth splitting open. 

“Sir Claudius, I won’t go. I won’t. Nothing more needs to be said.”

The man let go of her skirts, clearing his throat and recomposing himself. “I apologize, Miss Everleigh.” He choked the flames back down into his chest and stomach. 

“It is… fine, Sir.”

He stared at his shoes.

“You really want to go…?”

“Yes, Sir.” She nodded. 

“Why?” he asked, his heart in his throat. 

“I don’t intend to be gone for terribly long, Sir. Only long enough to enter society—”

“Which could be months….”

Athena rubbed her arms then pressed her palms into her skirts, where Sir Claudius’s hands had been.

“I intend on coming back home.”

“Miss Everleigh, once you enter society there, you shan’t return….”

“And how would you know?” she asked, biting.

“Because I did it!” he snapped. “I once had a home in Dublin! I was in society, too! I had friends and money and a life! For God’s sake, the only reason I moved back here was that I don’t age!” The castle walls rumbled. Smoke filtered out of his nose. “I didn’t come back until people started whispering about me. I didn’t want to leave Dublin. I _still_ want to be in Dublin instead of in this old, rank castle!” He gestured to the stone walls, hundreds of years old. “I want to be telling stories and writing plays and socializing but… I _can’t_.” He huffed, ashes escaping his nose and mouth. Athena leaped back, her pretty pink shoes dancing about on the floor. “I don’t want you to leave, Miss Everleigh, because…” He squinted, blinking slowly, then opened his eyes—they reminded Athena of her own, on late nights when the seas crashed into cliffs and dogs and wolves howled, and she was entranced by the moon, and the moon became her eyes and her eyes became the moon. 

“You don’t want me to leave because you have no one else to be with.”

“Yes.” His eyes were like the reflection of the moon in the ocean—glassy and rippling. “But, just because I don’t want you to leave… That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.” 

Athena held a hand up to her mouth. “Sir Claudius, my place is here.”

“No, Athena, you don’t know enough of the world to know where your place is,” he corrected. “It is selfish of me to expect you to remain here for your entire life.”

The girl smiled, exasperated. “So, I can go?” 

“Yes, Athena, you may go—only if you promise me something first.”

“Anything, Sir!”

“You will write?”

“Every day!”

“I shall write you then every day as well.” He grinned, ever so slightly, but his eyes remained broken in two. “I apologize for how foolish and selfish I have been. You are young and need to see the world. You need to be out in society, if you so wish.”

“There is no need to apologize. You have already done so much for my family and me. We have enough gold to live plentiful lives for months and months!”

“Oh, Miss Everleigh!”

“Yes?”

He ran in the opposite direction, back to the common room. “Just one moment!”

“Oh, alright!” She clutched her arm.

Upon his return, he held a sack full of gold coins and a small letter. “What’s this?” she queried, eyes wide.

“Open it.”

She tore open the letter and her eyes grazed over it. Once finished, the girl exclaimed: “Oh, Sir Claudius, you are so kind to me!” 

She took him by the hands, and he stepped back but soon returned. He caressed her palms, hoping he would have them again someday, perhaps for his own. 

And, to Athena’s surprise, his gloves weren’t black stone to be shaped by a blacksmith, as she had imagined, but rather were like the pelts of two soft black dogs she had encountered on a walk into town one day. 

He leaned over and ran his thumbs over her knuckles, bringing them up to his purple lips. Athena melted under the intense heat that spewed out of his mouth. Steam traveled up over her hands and arms, as though he were kissing her hundreds of times, all over. She closed her eyes, feeling the color red, the color purple, the color yellow, seeping into her, rising into her body from where his lips touched her skin.

His lips parted; he stiffened and rose. “I have sincerely enjoyed getting to know you over this past month, Miss Everleigh.”

Athena opened her eyes. “What?”

“I have enjoyed getting to know you… Miss Everleigh.”

“So have I….” She blinked, her mouth ajar, lost in his eyes. 

“Until we meet again. I will finish the rest of your duties for today. When you return in a few months, I hope we can continue your apprenticeship.”

“I want nothing more in the world, Sir.” He tried to let go of her hand, but she would not budge. 

“Miss Everleigh, it is almost time for you to go home. I wouldn't want your—mother to be worried about you.”

Athena creased her eyebrows. “Sir Claudius, I-I-” she swallowed. “I apologize for taking up so much of your time.” Her head fell.

“And I apologize for taking up so much of yours. Good day, Miss Everleigh.”


	18. Chapter XVI - Letters for a "Friend"

**_Dublin, IE., June 10, 1905._ **

**_My dearest friend,_ **

_I sincerely hope that Dublin is treating you well and that you have settled in with your aunt by now. I must admit that two weeks without any company has been dreadful, but I know that I will hear your sweet voice again someday._

_I wish to formally apologize for my behavior during our last meeting. It was rude of me to assume that you longed to both remain a housekeeper and provide for your family throughout the remainder of your girlhood. Not only that, but my conduct toward you was in poor taste._

_These two weeks alone have provided a time of reflection, wherefore I have recognized the wrongness of my actions. If you can find the will in your heart, do forgive me._

_Best regards,_

_Sir Claudius_

_Sir Claudius,_

_Beochaoineadh Castle, IE._

~❦︎~

_Dublin, IE., July 25, 1905._

_My dearest Miss Everleigh,_

_How are you finding the society in Dublin? I would ask you to call on a few friends of mine from many years ago, but after careful thought and consideration, I’ve decided it has been too many years ago that they were my friends. Therefore, please do not ask around if anyone once knew of a “Sir Claudius.”_

_I recall the best times I had in Dublin_ — _exquisite parties, food, dances, social gatherings. And always, I wish I could have stayed for the night festivities, but unfortunately, due to my unhappy disposition, I could not stay. I always took the lonesome ride back to my castle afterward. It was not very long_ — _nearly twenty kilometres_ — _but long did it seem._

_I hope that you do not have to ride twenty kilometres on a rocky road before sunset while in Dublin. Enjoy all the balls and dances you possibly can, while you can._

_Best wishes,_

_Sir Claudius_

_Sir Claudius,_

_Beochaoineadh Castle, IE._

~❦︎~

_Dublin, IE., August 17, 1905._

_Dear Miss Everleigh,_

_I was expecting a letter or two from you by now, but I understand that you likely are enjoying yourself too much to write_ — _either that, or there has been a significant mailing issue. If you receive this letter, at the very least reply with a few words on how you are doing. I do not mind that you have not been sending them every day (as you promised), but I do care for your wellbeing._

 _As for myself, all is as well as it can be. I have been sifting through old journals and potion books in your absence, deciding what to first teach you on your return. I do not believe I ever informed you of this, but every dragon in my clan has a “trade” so to speak. My father before me worked in spells_ — _therefore, I chose a similar path in life. Not only to appease him but also because I simply enjoyed making potions._

_I do not wish to rush you, but, if you can, either send me a letter informing me of your state—_ _or come home to me and tell me in person._

_Cordially,_

_Sir Claudius_

_Sir Claudius,_

_Beochaoineadh Castle, IE._

~❦︎~

_Dublin, IE., September 30, 1905._

_Miss Athena Everleigh,_

_These days without hearing your lovely voice, without seeing your dresses skirt across the hallways, and without even one letter from you have been_ — _to say the least_ — _excruciating._

_The castle is not nearly in the state of disrepair that it was before you began working as my housekeeper, but the amount of dust is rising with each morning sun. I have attempted to clean myself, but with little to no results. I do not have the skills and knowledge of housework as you do._

_Please, Miss Everleigh, if you can, write. If not, I shall don a disguise and venture to Dublin myself to find you._

_Sincerely,_

_Sir Claudius_

_Sir Claudius,_

_Beochaoineadh Castle, IE._

~❦︎~

_Beochaoineadh Castle., October 23, 1905._

_My dearest friend,_

_I apologize for not writing, Sir. I have been terribly busy._

_Please do not venture to Dublin in a disguise, for I will return home very soon._

_Regards,_

_Athena_

_Miss Athena Everleigh,_

_Dublin, IE._

~❦︎~❦︎~

**_Author's Note_ **

I researched proper formatting for letters from this time period, but I am sure there are mistakes. Feel free to private message me or comment on what needs to be fixed.


	19. Chapter XVII - The Picture-Perfect Gown

Everything in Dublin was gray—unlike Athena’s tiny hometown, where everything was brown. The horse carriages; the muddy, rocky, wet streets; the people; the clothes. It was all gray, mists everywhere, with people hurrying about while thunderstorms clapped over their heads. Perhaps that’s why Aunt Helena liked it so much—because it was becoming like London.

Athena followed suit behind her aunt and cousins, her pupils tracking the swivels of deep gray and purple robes streaming down her aunt’s back. The robes and ribbons billowed, bouncing up and down on the mucky walkway, though somehow not the least bit wet. The girl’s cousins—Margie and Rubina—traveled on the left and right side of their mother. Margie stuck her nose in the air, eyes shut tight, lips painted and cheeks pinched red, while Rubina’s eyes grazed over the horse carriages, preying on the youthful men riding therein. Athena noted how the young men in the carriages tensed their shoulders, wrung their hands together, and blushed after Rubina smiled and nodded at them. 

Not one of them spoke a word. Athena dared not lift her head from her aunt’s frame, afraid she would turn down a wrong alleyway or step in front of a horse carriage if she strayed too far. 

“Ooh… Mummy, look!” Rubina pointed at a shop on the street corner. “I’ve never seen it before. It must be new! May we go in, please?!” the girl begged. She bounced up and down like a toddler, although she was a couple of years Athena’s senior. _If I were bouncing up and down in such a manner, Aunt Helena’d have my head,_ Athena thought, groaning silently.

“Of course, darling, as long as you take your cousin in there with you. Remember, she is not familiar with the town yet, and we don’t want her getting lost, now do we?” Aunt Helena grinned, turning to face Athena, her lips the color of dark blood—so red it was purple. 

“Yes, mother!” Rubina called, taking Athena and Margie by their hands. “Let’s go, shall we?”

Margie broke away from the grasp and declared, “I shan’t go in. I prefer to run errands with Mother.”

“Fine, have it your way.” Rubina glared at her sister. “Athena and I will have all the fun then.”

Margie and Aunt Helena disappeared into the street fog—two black forms becoming less and less black with each step until they merged with the gray. Rubina grasped Athena tighter around the wrist and carried her into the store. Athena blew in the wind like a ragdoll. 

Once in the shop, and free of her cousin’s grasp, Athena dusted herself off and rubbed her wrists, relieving the pain. 

“Oh… my!” Rubina exclaimed, dancing around the shop.

“What is it?”

Athena looked up for the first time that morning.  
“Isn’t it wonderful, Athena?!” 

The girl walked as her mother on morning strolls—breathing in the air of the shop just as her mother breathed in the air of the forest. That fresh scent, not of flowers and tree sap, but of linen and brand new clothes. 

“Athena? Are you alright?”

“Yes… It’s just—I’ve never seen such lovely gowns before.” 

“Oh!” Rubina smiled, closing her eyes and her cheeks filling with a deep red color. 

Eventually, both young women pranced around the shop, trying on every dress—no matter the color, size, make, nor embellishments. The great majority of gowns garnered inspiration from the fashion of France, with slim fits and high necklines. Colors of all kinds, like bursts of butterflies in the forest when you brush past trees, glimmered throughout the shop. Everywhere Athena stepped, new colors splashed in her face. Most were the colors of spring—blues, pinks, and yellows—with it being early June. For the first time, Athena felt at home in Dublin.

“Oh, Rubina, I would just love to buy one of these!” Athena exclaimed, swiveling around in a dark pink, almost red, dress.

Rubina laughed. “Athena, there is so much you must learn.”

Athena’s smile fell; she let go of the skirts of the dress. “What do you mean?”

“You must learn how to shop with Mother! She has plenty of money to pay for whatever dress you want or however many you want! But she only _buys_ the one she thinks looks good on you—even if you don’t like it.” 

Athena smirked, trotting around like a filly, glancing in all the mirrors of the shop. “Her money means nothing to me. I’ve got money of me own,” she spoke, fixing her honey ringlets and staring into her bright blue eyes. 

“Really?” Rubina placed her hands on her hips. “From whom? Surely your father isn’t paying for it?”

Athena curled her face up, wrinkled her nose, and dug her fingernails into her gown. _And to think, I had only just begun to like her… Now I remember why both Margie and Rubina are spoiled, selfish_ —

“Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!” a man shouted in the distance, a very _French_ man. “Please, I beg of you! Do not ruin that fabric with your nails.” 

Athena lifted her eyes from the mirror, turning around to find a medium-sized and middle-aged man, with long arms like a tape measure or a thread. His pants were pulled up to his waist, fitted perfectly around his midriff, and his blonde, luscious hair fell neatly over his scalp. He wore a long yellow piece of measuring tape around his neck as though it were a shawl. The man was not particularly muscular, except for his hands, which had seen many years of tailoring. 

“I apologize, Sir. I did not realize I was doing anything.”

“It is no problem, mademoiselle!” he called, breathing in a sigh of relief. “That is an expensive fabric.” He bowed, then adjusted the tape around his neck. “Now, what can I do for you two young _angéliques_ this morning?” 

“We were only browsing the shop. I’ve never seen this—”

“I would like to purchase a custom-made gown, Sir.”

“Athena!” Rubina pulled her cousin to the side, whispering, “What are you doing?”

The man cleared his throat, hushing Rubina. “Oh, it is no problem, mademoiselle! I have designed plenty of custom-made gowns in the past! Do not fret.” The man trotted over to the girls. “Please, call me Henri,” he spoke, his “R” gurgling in the back of his throat. The man then placed a kiss on both of their hands but held his lips longer on Athena’s. 

“Why, thank you… _H_ enri. Did I say that right?” Rubina blushed. 

“No, it’s ‘Henri’, without the ‘H’ sound and more like the word ‘on’,” Athena corrected.

“Ooh… what a smart one we have here. You say your name is Athena?”

“Yes..”

“Lovely. Just lovely. I’ve never met anyone with a name quite like that before.”

“Thank you, Henri.” Athena smiled.

“Now then, shall we begin discussing designs for your custom-made dress?”

“Of course!” He motioned for Athena to take his arm, and the girl followed accordingly. Rubina huffed, crossing her arms. Once out of earshot, Athena whispered, “You’ll have to excuse my cousin, Rubina. She is used to being the center of attention.”

Henri burst into laughter, opening his mouth tall and wide. “You’re an honest one then, aren’t you?!” He rubbed his forehead with a handkerchief.

“As honest as I can be.” Athena grinned, though only lifting one corner of her mouth. 

“Now then,” Henri pulled back two sets of curtains, “shall we begin?”

Athena walked into the room of multiple fabrics—satin, cotton, velvet. Ranging from inexpensive to only fabrics royals might wear, the shop had it all. “My, my, what a selection you have, Henri!” she said, running her hands over strands of scarlet material. 

“Thank you, mademoiselle! I purchase only the finest fabrics.” He spoke, leaning onto a table. 

“How long have you been here? In Dublin, I mean.”

“I have just moved from Paris to Dublin, mademoiselle! I had a dress shop there, but had to move here to be with… _mon amour_.” He glanced off into the distance. “The love of my life is in this town. I left my entire well-being in Paris to come here. Sometimes, love decides the direction of your life for you.” Henri ran his fingers up and down his tape measurer.

“Oh, you must really love her then!” Athena called. 

“Yes, I do,” he said, turning away. 

“What is her name?”

“Her… name? I’m—not sure, mademoiselle….”

“You’re not sure?” Athena furrowed her brows.

“I only met her once… She came to my shop in Paris and I fell in love with her then and there! It was so easy to do because she was so lovely with the way she spoke. So tender with her words. She said she loved dressmaking and complimented me so on my work but—” His eyes fell. “I never caught her name. Only her accent. I knew she was from Dublin. So, I followed her here, hoping she might come in. But I have never seen her again….” 

“I’m so sorry, Henri. Perhaps, I could help you look for her. I will be staying in Dublin for a few months.”

“Do you not live here? Oh, you must live in London! I hear the accent—same with your cousin.”

“No, Sir, I live in a village not too far away from here, but my father is a Londoner, and so is my aunt. They moved here around twenty years ago.”

“Ah… I see. And your mother?”

“She is a native of the village. She knows how to speak Gaelic actually, but I do not.”

“Oh, how interesting.” He looked away. “I digress, mademoiselle. What would you like for your custom-made gown? Colors? Patterns? I have several appliqué you can browse through over here—”

Athena walked in the opposite direction, toward a large book sitting on a shelf. It was open on a page obtaining the most perfect gown she had ever laid eyes upon.

“What about this one?” she asked.

“Oh, that’s just a sketch, mademoiselle. I don’t know if I will make it or not. Besides, even if I started on it this very minute, it would be until October before I finished!”

She pirouetted around to face him, smirking. “October it is then.”

~❦︎~

“Where is the girl? Why is she taking so long?!” Mr. Everleigh shouted.

“It’s the gown, Sir! It will be a few more moments,” Rubina exclaimed from the dressing room.

“Well, the photographer won’t wait forever!” Charles Everleigh floated over to the man, his hands clasped together, smiling. “Please, just a few more moments, Sir. I apologize for taking up so much of your time.”

The photographer sat on an elaborate settee beside his prized possession—an enormous camera, held up by a few stilts, with a blanket covering the lens. He frowned, his long mustache digging into his wrinkles. “As long as you pay me for the squandered time, I’ll take as long as you need.”

Mr. Everleigh’s smile faltered ever so slightly, while one eye twitched. “Rubina! Helena! Athena! Hurry up in there!”

“We are!” Aunt Helena called, not even the slightest bit of panic lining her voice.

The remainder of the family—Margie, Mrs. Everleigh, all the children—sat around on each lounge chair and settee that Aunt Helena’s living room had to offer. Most rested their heads on their chins, but one of the youngest girls leaned up against Mrs. Everleigh, dozing. Isolde petted her daughter’s hair.

Soon, scuffling could be heard throughout the hallways, like pine needles scraping across the floor. Everyone—even the children who had fallen asleep—came alive at the sound of the ruffling skirts. A radiant burst of light, the first rays of dawn, shot out of the bedroom. Red and gold. 

“Annie?!” Each child’s head shot up, rushing to greet their sister whom they hadn’t seen in months. They crowded around the bedroom.

“Ach!” shouted Mr. Everleigh, throwing his hands over his head. “Now we’ll have to wrangle them up, too!”

Margie shot her nose up in the air, huffing at the children’s—and their father’s—behavior.

A silence descended upon the room, like dusk falling over the forest, hushing all the animals. Morning and night echoed at the same time within the same room.

A dazzling red shoe stepped out, prodding the children to move out of the way. Following the shoe were dark red skirts, flowing as smooth as wine straight out of the bottle. Thick layers upon even thicker layers billowed across the floor, bouncing and bouncing, swirling like a storm. A few layers of deep green ribbons spiraled around the red skirts—vines from which the wine grapes fell. The bodice fashioned the finest of appliqué: red roses dancing about in green thorns and vines, in an almost Celtic pattern, like the patchwork Mrs. Everleigh had seen some odd years before, but it was undoubtedly French handiwork. The gown barely reached Athena’s shoulders, pieces of red wine fabric clinging to her bare arms—hardly suitable for a family picture. 

None of the other outfits in the room compared to Athena’s—all drab even in their best clothes. Mrs. Everleigh wore a gown she made herself, looking like a tall old wise tree in the forest. Mr. Everleigh wore a dark, monochrome suit without accents and embellishments. The rest of the children had on the outfits their mother made for them, with the colors she picked for them. And, of course, Aunt Helena, her signature purple; Margie, her deep blue and black; and Rubina, her pastels.

“Ya look like Father o’ Christmas threw up on ya,” Athena’s oldest brother spoke, his lips curled in disgust.  
“Oh, hush up!” Aunt Helena shouted, quieting the boy. “Now, did I promise you a lady, or what, dear brother?”

Mr. Everleigh removed his hand from his mouth, his eyes bursting with red. “Athena… you’re all—” he choked, stifling back tears. “... grown-up.” He wiped his face off with his sleeve.

Aunt Helena leaned over, whispering to her niece. “Now, that’s the reaction I was hoping for.” Athena only nodded. 

Mrs. Everleigh stood up from her resting position, striding toward her daughter. “Athena, this highly inappropriate and ya know it. Go put on one o’ da dresses I made for ya, _now_.” Her eyes tore the dress open like a hawk shredding the guts out of its prey. 

Athena faltered, shaking, crumbling under her attacker’s weight—until Aunt Helena squeezed in-between the two of them. 

“Pardon, dear sister, I approved Athena’s gown.” She spoke without hesitation, as cheerful as a wicked cat after eating dinner, purring. “I believe she is the best-dressed out of all of us in the room, and she should be the best-dressed, after all! This is her homecoming party! Now, let’s all settle down and pose for the kind gentleman, shall we?” She motioned toward the photographer.

After that, the man had had enough, after two hours of waiting _and_ a confrontation. He gathered the entire family up, posed them, and shot the photograph in two seconds. Everyone frowned in it, except Aunt Helena, who wore a slight smile. 

And in the dresser drawer of Athena’s bedroom lie a slip of paper, detailing the instructions she had followed:

_My dearest friend,_

_Take this sack of gold coins and purchase the most perfect gown in all of Dublin town. It must be exactly how you want it, with no influence from anyone else_ — _or else don’t bother to use my money._

_Sir Claudius_


End file.
